tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60241428548464077742024-03-18T23:45:46.392-05:00The Great Food JunkieOne of my great passions is food. I love eating food. I love cooking food. Don't get me wrong. Food is not always on my mind. However, food is an integral part of every culture. It seems that no matter where we go, food brings people together. So...let's hop on the food train and see where it takes us.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-10916550815926048722013-05-28T13:30:00.000-05:002013-05-28T13:30:38.441-05:00So, Neko! Let me tell you what I did yesterday...This post is dedicated to the memory of my dear friend, Neko Hamlett.<br />
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Neko and I first got to know each other in 1999. I had just recently been hired by American Roamer (now Mosaik Solutions). Neko had long been a friend of the president of our company, and was just asked to join the team as VP of sales. It didn't take long for Neko and I to discover that we had a lot in common. We both loved darts <i>(He was good at it, and I was good at making him look even better at it.)</i>, a good beer and a cigar <i>(I didn't even know I had a passion for these until Neko introduced them to me. In fact, Neva says I was fairly virtuous...until I met Neko. I sure owe him a lot!)</i>, talking about how proud our wife and kids made us, and smoking <i>(food)</i>! It took a little while before we discovered the grilling part. One day I mentioned that my family loves for me to smoke our Thanksgiving turkey. Shortly after that, we were emailing before and after each holiday to find out what the other was going to smoke, and how it turned out. Neko went to be with our Lord during the Labor Day weekend in 2008. I was smoking a huge mess of ribs that weekend, and never got to tell him about them. I still love smoking meats <i>(as well as all the vices he so wisely passed on to me)</i>, but there has always been something missing on holidays like Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day; holidays that require the use of a grill. This Memorial Day holiday I decided, what the heck! I might not receive a direct reply, but there is no reason for me not to let Neko know what I cooked for the holiday. So, Neko! Let me tell you what I did yesterday...<br />
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I hadn't smoked anything for quite some time. I've been itching to though. Plus, I needed to empty some space in the freezer. It didn't take long to decide I needed to smoke a turkey AND a boston butt. The next dilemma was figuring out what device I was going to smoke them on. Was I going to pull out the trusty Chargriller and smoke these the old fashioned way, with charcoal and wood chunks? Or was I going to crank up the Sawtooth pellet grill and slow smoke these items on the back deck? Both methods have their advantages. Nothing gives a good smoke ring and crust on a pork butt like smoking the old fashioned way. And you have to use the old methods if you want a smoked turkey that has that gorgeous mahogany skin. But...you have to really be prepared to dedicate your day to the grill. It is important to keep the smoke and temperature consistent, if you want your meat to come out just right. That's kinda hard to do if you have a lot of other things going on in your life that day.<br />
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Making life easier is what the pellet grill is all about. Other than occasionally checking the pellet level, these grill/smokers are about as "set it and forget it" as grills can be. You don't get the mahogany color on your smoked turkeys with a pellet grill, but that mahogany color comes at a price. While the turkey meat is juicy and flavorful, the skin gets so full of smoke it becomes acrid, and leathery. With a pellet grill, the smoke flavor of the turkey meat is still there, though as part of the background harmony, rather than the lead. However, the real treat with a pellet smoked turkey is the crispy, yummy skin. Who can argue with a turkey that looks like this?<br />
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I thought about doing the pork on the Chargriller, and the turkey on the Sawtooth. My wife made some smart comment about me running back and forth between grills all day. I certainly did not want to create any unnecessary exercise for myself. That is NOT the purpose of a holiday. The pellet grill won!<br />
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The night before the great smoking event, I prepped my turkey. This year I found a commercial brine on clearance, that looked pretty good. It was mainly kosher salt, black and pink peppercorns, rosemary, and thyme. The next day, the real preparations began. I had to mix up a dry rub for the pork. Now, I live with a family of wusses <i>(myself included)</i>. When we eat barbecue, we would much rather sink our teeth into something sweet and smokey, rather than spicy. My dry rubs have a tendency to be heavy on the brown sugar, and lighter on the salt and pepper. This time my dry rub had brown sugar, smoked kosher salt, garlic salt, cumin, white pepper, dried red bell peppers that had been ground down completely, and finally, some dried tomato flakes that had been ground down. As you can see below, The tomato and red pepper gave the rub a nice red coloring.<br />
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Before rubbing the butt down, I mixed a bottle of pear hard cider and half a cup of vinegar, and injected all over the butt.<br />
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Next, I dried the turkey, oiled the skin, and sprinkled smoked salt and coarse ground black pepper all over the bird. Then, it was out to the pellet grill that was set on low/smoke which kept the temperature around 150 degrees, and produced ample smoke. It was a tight fit, but I got both pieces of meat, as well as a pie plate filled with water, herbs from the brine, and an apple, for moisture.<br />
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I kept the Sawtooth on the low/smoke setting for a couple of hours. I then cranked it up to medium, which got the grill to just above 200 degrees. This still produced a good amount of smoke, but kept the butt and turkey both at a good rate of cooking for producing moist and tender meat. For the first six hours, I sprayed the turkey and pork butt with a mixture of pear hard cider, vinegar, and water. After six hours, I turned the Sawtooth up just enough to get the temperature to 250 degrees, and started spritzing every half hour. After nine hours <i>(just in time for supper)</i> I had the golden brown turkey pictured earlier in this post. The pork butt needed another hour and a half to finish.<br />
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Neko, I don't want you to think we were total carnivores last night, without a hint of vegetables on our plates. As you can see below, I had a green vegetable...as well as some Loaded Potato Salad.<br />
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So, you've never had Loaded Potato Salad!?! Well! All you have to do is boil three pounds of red potatoes that have been sliced into decent bite sized chunks. While those are boiling <i>(Don't forget that Anne Burrell says to always add enough salt to the water that it tastes like the ocean!)</i>, mix together a cup of mayonnaise, a cup of sour cream, one pack of ranch dressing mix, half a pound of crispy bacon all crumbled up, a half cup shredded cheddar, and about six green onions finely chopped. Stick the dressing in the fridge to cool. Once the potatoes are boiled til fork tender, drain and allow to cool just a bit. Mix them with the cooled dressing. If you can make the day before, it is better. That gives the ranch flavor some time to mellow a bit. It ain't your mother's potato salad, but it sure is good.<br />
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By the way, did you see the pink on the turkey meat in that picture. That's smoke! Once that bird hit the table, it didn't stand a chance. I was afraid things were going to break out into WWIII over the drumsticks. Fortunately, some last minute diplomacy prevailed.<br />
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Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about the pork butt. Here is a picture of the finished product.<br />
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The bark isn't as dark and thick as it would have been with the Chargriller, but it was far from being a disappointment. In fact, I had some of the pork for lunch today, with my left over potato salad. All I can say is I am glad my office has a door on it. That pork resulted in some sounds that some might deem inappropriate for an office setting. I am definitely going to have to use the hard cider as an injection again. I don't know that I could pick out the pear flavoring, but there was something about the cider, that made this meat scrumpdillyicious.<br />
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Well, that's pretty much all there is to say about my weekend, Neko. Something tells me you fixed them one heck of a barbecue on the other side of those pearly gates. One day, you'll have to tell me all about it...Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-36113297711883650562013-03-18T16:40:00.000-05:002013-03-18T16:53:47.527-05:00Happy St. Fergie's Day!What the heck is St. Fergie's Day? I can't believe you would ask such a question. Surely you have heard of St. Fergie, and are wholeheartedly celebrating his feast day! Well! Bless your heart! I guess I'll have to tell you the legend of St. Fergie.<br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">The Legend of Saint Fergie</span></h2>
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Many centuries ago, when the Romans still occupied Britain, there lived a young lad by the name of Ferguson. Ferguson had many dreams of becoming a person of importance. Perhaps a warlord, or king. Or maybe even a bishop in the Christian church. That seemed to be all the rage these days. Ferguson had a best friend named Patrick. Really, Patrick was Ferguson's only friend, so he got the title of best friend automatically. Patrick was an alright kind of guy, but he had a knack for stealing the limelight just when it seemed things were going well for Ferguson.</div>
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One fine summer day, Ferguson and Patrick were walking down the path to the local pond. Ferguson turned to Patrick and said, "Paddy. I can't wait until tomorrow."</div>
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"I know, Fergie," Patrick replied. "I'm so jealous. I can't believe that tomorrow you'll be on a ship sailing for Rome. What are you going to do when you get there?"</div>
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"I think the first thing I'm gonna do is sit down and have a giant bowl of Fettucine with the Pope. I'm gonna tell him 'Siri,' thats short for Siricius, you know."</div>
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"Is it now?" replied Patrick.</div>
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"Siri, I'm getting pretty tired of boiled beef up there in Britain. How about you send some pasta, and maybe a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese home with me. You do that, and I guarantee the number of converts will double in that area!"</div>
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"You've gotta be kidding me?"Patrick said incredulously. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous."</div>
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"Paddy," said Feruguson, "why do you always have to be harshing my mellow?"</div>
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The conversation continued on, but that isn't really important. A couple of days later, as Patrick was sitting outside of his hut, celtic raiders from the Isle of Ireland pillaged the village and took him as a slave. As they hauled him off, his father, Seamus cried after him. Then he looked over at Colin, the father of Ferguson, and said, "At least your Fergie escaped this fate."</div>
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Colin replied, "Fergie who?"</div>
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Patrick was herded with many other boys his age onto a ship, and thrown into a holding cage below. As he looked up from stumbling into the cage his eyes fell upon his best friend, Ferguson. "Fergie! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on your way to Rome."</div>
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Forlornly, Fergurson looked at Patrick and answered, "I know. I got to celebrating a little too hard the other night. Not only did I lose all of my money, but I missed the ship to Rome."</div>
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Patrick could only look at his friend, Fergie, shake his head and sigh.</div>
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Several years later, Patrick and Ferguson were still slaves, acting as shepherds for an Irish warlord. While out in the fields one day, Patrick and Ferguson were discussing an opportunity that had arisen that would allow them to escape and return to their homeland. A ship was docked at the nearby port, and it was headed for London. From there, it would just be a few days journey by foot back home.</div>
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"It's agreed," Patrick said. "We'll meet at the great oak at the bend of the main road when the moon is at it's peak."</div>
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"Sure!" replied Ferguson. "Now run along, Paddy my boy, and get our things gathered up!"</div>
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As Patrick ran off, he turned around and yelled, "Be careful, Fergie! There are some mighty dark storm clouds on the horizon!"</div>
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Ferguson continued tending the flock of sheep as the sky got darker and darker. Soon the rain began to pour down. Ferguson decided to leave the sheep and go ahead and head to the great oak tree. AFter arriving, he hunkered down and began to wait...and wait...and wait...</div>
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Finally, Ferguson decided he needed to see how high the moon was (Yes, he is really going to check the moon in the middle of a downpour. Did I ever mention just how dumb this guy really was?). He stepped out from under the great oak, and looked up into the sky from whence the torrents of rain were originating.</div>
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BAM! ZOT! Ferguson was toast.</div>
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Not too much later, Patrick came up to the great oak. He was having a hard time seeing anything since there was no moonlight to illuminate the path. He hoped Fergie would get there on time, despite the lack of a moon. Strangely, Patrick noticed a smell of cooked meat coming from somewhere. This was making him very hungry, but he knew he had to keep his mind focused on the escape. Presently, Patrick realized Fergie might not come at all. He was just going to have to leave his friend. As he gathered the belongings, he made a mental note to learn more about roasting meat. Somebody was having a fine dinner tonight.</div>
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As Ferguson slowly opened his eyes he could hear a constant ringing in his ears, accompanied by the chirping of little birds. Then he realized that daylight was piercing the cracks between his eyelids. "Holy &#$%^!" (That's ancient Gaelic for "Oh! My Lord!" Honestly!) "I hope I haven't missed the boat!" With that, Ferguson slowly rose, and started towards the port, slowly gaining strength as he recovered from the shock of the previous night.</div>
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Ferguson ran and ran until he could see the ship. It was still docked! However, just as he reached the ship, the gangplank was raised, and a loud blast emitted from the smoke stack. Brokenhearted, Ferguson looked up and saw his best friend, Patrick waving from the deck with a leis around his neck, and sipping on a mimosa. Ferguson ran to the ticket agent and asked him, "When's the next ship to London?"</div>
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"That would be two days following the next full moon." was the reply.</div>
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"How much is a ticket?"</div>
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"That would be $25, sir."</div>
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"$25 dollars!?! I don't have that type of money! I'm a slave!" Ferguson suddenly realized that was probably not the best piece of information to divulge at the moment.</div>
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"I've got a ship," spoke a deep husky voice behind him. "and it will only cost you a Thomas Jefferson."</div>
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Ferguson rolled his eyes as he turned to speak to the man behind him. "They don't make two dollar bills anymore!"</div>
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"I'm talking about a nickel, you dumb@$#!" (That's Norse for "Silly little man!")</div>
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"Oh. Sorry." Ferguson apologized. "I'll be glad to board your ship." Ferguson couldn't help noticing that there wasn't much too the vessel. It looked like a giant row boat, with a sail in the middle.</div>
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"Say hello to your fellow shipmates!" bellowed the sailor, as he gave Ferguson a hearty slap on the back. " This is Erik, Lars, Olaf, Bjorn, Frank, and Goober. Just grab you an oar, and let's get going. Time's a wasting!" With that, they pushed off and set sail. "By the way," the man said. "My name is Lief, Lief Erickson. We're going to America!" Ferguson did not know where America was, but he had a funny feeling it was going to be a very long time before he got home.</div>
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The voyage took six years, but during that time they stopped in New York, catching a performance of Cats on Broadway, as well as spending some time in New Orleans, celebrating Mardi Gras, and learning how to make jambalaya. Along the way, Fergie befriended a giant python named Perthy. Finally! they made it to London. After several days journey, Ferguson began to recognize the rolling green hills of his home. His first stop was the birthplace of Patrick, his friend. Ferguson knocked on the door. A much older Seamus came to the door. "Fergie, my lad! How are you?"</div>
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"Doing well, Mr. Seamus. Is Patrick in?"</div>
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"No, me boy. Patrick left a few months ago, headed back to Ireland. Said he had a vision, or something like that."</div>
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Ferguson's heart sank with the news. "Oh. So sorry to bother you."</div>
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"No problem at all, Laddie. Make sure to go see your father. He's been pining for you all these years."</div>
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Ferguson walked down the lane to the little cottage he had spent many of his childhood years wishing belonged to his dad. Then he walked behind, and knocked on the door of the little shack that was home. "I told you I don't want to buy one of your dag blasted vacuum cleaners!" Boomed a voice from within. Suddenly the door opened and Ferguson's father, Colin, stared him in the face. "Well! Out with it! What do you want to sell me?"</div>
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"Nothing," Ferguson replied. "It's me. Fergie. Your son!"</div>
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"Fergie who?"</div>
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After some time, Ferguson earned enough money to catch the next flight to Dublin International. Once he landed, he was surprised to see his friend, Patrick waiting at the gate for him.</div>
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"Fergie, my friend!" Patrick cried as he gave Ferguson a great bear hug. "I thought I would never see your face again."</div>
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"You're looking well, Patrick." observed Ferguson. "What have you been up to?"</div>
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"Oh, nothing much. Just converting the odd pagan to Christianity," Patrick said with the wave of a hand. "Oh! I almost forgot. I made bishop."</div>
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Presently, the two friends were walking down the lane towards the village where they had been enslaved so many years before, when a small girl came running up.</div>
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"Father Patrick! Father Patrick!" she called out, as she approached the two men.</div>
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"Calm down, my child," Patrick answered, as the girl caught her breath. "What is it you wish?"</div>
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"Father Patrick. I just don't get this whole trinity thing. How can God be three things?"</div>
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"Let me handle this one, Patrick," Ferguson said as he kneeled to the little girl's level. "You see, Princess, God is the Father. However, because he is all powerful, he is also his own son."</div>
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"So God's father is himself. Really!" The girl rolled her eyes. "I can't wait to hear the rest."</div>
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"God is also a ghost!" Ferguson exclaimed with a sense of excitement in his voice.</div>
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"So...God's dead."</div>
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"No! No!" Ferguson cried out. "He is a LIVING God!"</div>
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"But you just said he is a ghost," replied the little girl. "So which is it? Is he a God or a ghost?"</div>
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"Yes!" replied Ferguson.</div>
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The little girl looked up at Patrick, and whispered loudly, while acting like Ferguson couldn't hear. "So, who is this freakazoid (Irish for "Sweet little man") you picked up at the harbor!?!"</div>
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Patrick knelt down and picked a clover from the side of the road. "See this little shamrock?" he asked the girl. "God is like this shamrock. The shamrock is one plant, but it has three distinctive parts. In the same way, there is only one God, but he has three distinct manifestations."</div>
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"Oh." exclaimed the little girl. "That makes sense. Let me go tell Mum and Dad." With that, she turned and skipped off.</div>
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"A shamrock! Really!" Ferguson retorted incredulously. "You tell the girl that God is like a friggin little weed, and you expect her to figure out the Trinity!?!"</div>
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"Yes."</div>
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The two walked in silence until they reached the great oak tree. "Ahh!" sighed Patrick. "Do you remember this spot, Fergie?"</div>
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"Oh! I remember the spot, alright." Ferguson curtly replied.</div>
<div>
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<div>
"I can still remember the wonderful smell of roasted meat,"Patrick exclaimed with his eyes shut and taking a deep breath.</div>
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"Uh, Patrick."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
"Yes, Fergie."</div>
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<div>
"That was roasted Me."</div>
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Patrick looked at Fergie for a couple seconds. "Oh." The two companions continued walking to town.</div>
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As they entered the town, masses of people ran out to the street tossing thousands upon thousands of shamrocks on the two travelers. "Blessed is he who explained the Trinity!" they all cried out. Ferguson simply slunk his head down and grumbled. Once again, Patrick stole the show.</div>
<div>
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Patrick and Ferguson decided to stay overnight at the local inn. As Ferguson sat in his bed, he thought about his entire life. Every time, things were getting ready to look up for him, there was Patrick, ready to steal the show! The longer he thought about it, the angrier Ferguson got. Ferguson knew that he had to take control of the situation, or forever live in the shadow of Patrick. Then it struck him. Ferguson had an idea so brilliant it could not fail. Perthy! Ferguson opened his satchel and pulled out his old friend, Perthy the python.</div>
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<div>
"Perthy, old buddy, old pal!" he said with an excitement in his voice that had not been there for years. "You are my ticket to fame!" At daylight Ferguson would sneak and loose Perthy upon the streets of the village. Snakes had never inhabited the isle of Ireland. The people would see this creature as Satan himself, and there would be Ferguson to save the day! Ferguson the Magnificent would forever live in the legends of Ireland! Ferguson blew out the candle by his bed, and laid his head down, satisfied with the scheme he had conjured.</div>
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<div>
As Ferguson slept he started to hear voices in his dreams. They were voices of terror. The voices were screaming about a horrible beast. Something about Satan visiting the village.</div>
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Oh, crap! (That's Irish for "Oh, Crap!") Ferguson suddenly realized those voices weren't in a dream. They were coming from outside his window. Ferguson bolted out of bed, and grabbed his satchel. Upon opening it, he realized Perthy was not there. Ferguson ran out of his room, down the stairs, and out the door of the inn. There was Patrick running after Perthy.</div>
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"Remove thyself from this village, foul beast of Hell!" He cried out with indignation. "Be gone with thee, oh Satan!"</div>
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Suddenly, there was a loud bang of thunder. BAM! ZOT! Perthy was toast.</div>
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"Nooooooo!" screamed Ferguson as he came running up to the still smoking lifeless python.</div>
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"But Ferguson," replied Patrick. "It was a beast from the otherworld. It had to be vanquished."</div>
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<div>
"You idiot!" yelled Ferguson. "I was supposed to vanquish the snake! All my life you have stolen the spotlight from me. For once, I had a foolproof plan. I was going to be the star! Don't you ever sleep late!?!"</div>
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<div>
"Fergie, my poor friend, Fergie," Patrick said, shaking his head, with pity in his eyes. "You always were a day late, and a dollar short."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"All hail Patrick the snake killer!" The crowd cried out. The church bell began to peel. "Ireland will never suffer the evil of snakes again!" the people cheered.</div>
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<div>
"You fools!" Ferguson cried out, as he grabbed a stone from the road. "Ireland never had snakes before!" With that, he threw the rock at the wall of the church. Suddenly, the crossbeam holding the ringing church bell snapped, and the massive bell came flying out of the tower.</div>
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SPLAT! Ferguson was a pancake.</div>
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The crowd went deathly quiet, as they all stared at the arms and legs extending out from underneath the bell.</div>
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<div>
"All hail Fergie the blessed!" someone in the crowd yelled out. "He stopped the bell from killing us all!"</div>
<div>
"All hail Fergie the bell killer!" crowd joined in.</div>
<div>
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<div>
"Father Patrick. Father Patrick." Patrick looked down to see the little girl tugging at his robes.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
"Yes, my dear."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
"You know that freakazoid didn't really stop anything, don't you?"</div>
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<div>
"Shut up, you little brat!" (That's Irish for "Bless you, my child.") Patrick's staff swiftly made contact.</div>
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<div>
WHACK! The little girl was flying.</div>
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__________</div>
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There you have it. The legend of St. Fergie. I promise, every bit of it is true. I suppose you are wondering how to celebrate the feast day of St. Fergie. Well, fortunately, you have the Great Food Junkie to set everything straight for you.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The feast day of St. Fergie is always the day after that of St. Patrick. After all, that scoundrel, Patrick was always stealing Fergie's thunder. Since Patrick was kind enough to point out for us that Fergie was always a day late and a dollar short, one always celebrates St. Fergie's day by eating the leftovers from St. Patrick's day. After all, it would be heresy to actually spend any money in celebration of this venerated saint.</div>
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I suppose you are wondering how the Great Food Junkie celebrated the feast of St. Fergie. Well, we had a nice roasted pork tenderloin (in honor of St. Patrick's obsession with roasted meat), along with some fried cabbage. Let me tell you, it was awesome. It is amazing how sometimes the simplest foods make the best meals. For the roasted pork tenderloin, I just took a 2lb tenderloin, rubbed it with a mixture of salt, pepper, garlic powder, and powdered thyme. I let it refrigerate overnight, browned all sides in a skillet, then placed in a baking dish with 1/2 inch of water. The tenderloin baked covered at 350 degrees for 55 minutes. Wow! it was fantastic.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For the cabbage, I fried a pound of chopped bacon until it was very crisp. Then I sauteed an onion in the bacon fat for 5 minutes. I added 2lb cole slaw mix (shredded cabbage and carrots), the bacon, and salt and pepper. I let that cook covered until the cabbage was tender. Now, doesn't that look good.</div>
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So, the next time you celebrate St. Patrick's Day, please...I beg of you...don't forget to celebrate the feast of St. Fergie, patron saint of those who are a day late and a dollar short...</div>
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<br /></div>
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...and little kids who don't know when to keep their mouths shut!</div>
Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-5785822813242297042013-03-09T18:37:00.001-06:002013-03-09T18:37:27.028-06:00I haven't been lost...just eatin' a whole lot!I feel like I've let my readers (all two of you) down. I went the entire month of February with nary a post. I am sure some of you went back and re-read the book of Revelations in the Bible...just to make sure this wasn't one of the signs of the apocalypse. I assure you, it is not...at least I don't think it is. I remember something about the seven churches of asia...the false prophet...the beast...the whore of Babylon... Nope, no mention of the Great Food Junkie.<br />
<br />
Speaking of "women of ill repute (not necessarily in Babylon), do you remember the movie "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas"? Do you know how long it took me to realize the people who printed the movie posters didn't misspell warehouse? I'll admit, I have rarely been the brightest bulb in the pack.<br />
<br />
However, I digress.<br />
<br />
Anyway, we have a little catching up to do. I believe I ended my last post with some mention of taking a bite out of Bambi. That's exactly what I did. I had a coworker come up to me and mention that he had too much deer meet, and was wondering if I might like some roast. Well, I never cooked deer in my life. The benefit to that is that if I really screw it up, the family will think that's just how deer is supposed to taste, and I am without shame. The next day, the friend showed up with five deer roasts. Now I was looking at five hunks of meat, and I had no idea how to cook it. I figured it would be good cooked slowly in a slow cooker, but I wanted to grill it. After some research and recipe hunting, I decided to treat Bambi just like I treated my dear friend chuck in the previous blog post. I mixed up the same marinate, with perhaps a bit more brown sugar, and marinated two roasts. I then wrapped them in bacon, and threw them on the grill. The results were deeeeeelicious!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6P34Mc1giGJ_nY4OQy6Rc3qVpjy7jdKNDj5tcYpXhp_aw-NnghGvbREmYjwSP1CxsAIk1OefeqO5uscsHwTHivMeEZHp9DbMau5debWwbhHnqabCKNlnDn98ytt0RhH34KxSsCOLdosM/s1600/226741_10200372766865586_523871688_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6P34Mc1giGJ_nY4OQy6Rc3qVpjy7jdKNDj5tcYpXhp_aw-NnghGvbREmYjwSP1CxsAIk1OefeqO5uscsHwTHivMeEZHp9DbMau5debWwbhHnqabCKNlnDn98ytt0RhH34KxSsCOLdosM/s400/226741_10200372766865586_523871688_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The bacon did a great job of keeping the lean deer moist. The only problem was the roast on the right. Not having ever cooked deer before, when I pulled it out, I thought it was the most beautiful roast I had seen. I wasn't sure what the significance of it being labeled "neck" was, but I was sure it was something special. What is special about it is that friggin huge bone running right through the center of the roast, making it one beast to slice.<br />
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My next great adventure in cooking is a program called<a href="http://www.emeals.com/" target="_blank"> eMeals</a>. This is a neat little program, and the perfect solution for the family that raises their utility bill by standing in front of an opened refrigerator for three years, wondering what to make for supper. The result is usually, ordering pizza. With eMeals you are emailed meal plans for the entire week. Depending on the subscription level you choose, you can either have just dinner plans emailed to you, or every meal of the day. Not only are you given a menu, but you are given a shopping list as well. To make things even easier, you can indicate what store you do most of your grocery shopping at, and Emeals with customize the meal plans to use ingredients known to be carried at that store.<br />
<br />
After doing eMeals for a couple weeks, we decided our grocery bill was a little higher than it used to be. However, we figure that we are coming out better in the long run, because knowing each night what you are going to eat, significantly reduces the pizza orders, and trips to restaurants. Here are some of the things we have eaten.<br />
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This is a creamy cheddar cauliflower soup. I wasn't sure at first, how it would taste, but the whole family scarfed it up. One of the tricks I used, was using yellow cauliflower. It helped intensify the cheesy look to the soup.<br />
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This is dirty rice and peas. Okay, there is absolutely nothing special about the peas, but the dirty rice reminded me of the stuff I used to get with my chicken and biscuits at Bojangles. I know I'm dating myself by mentioning that restaurant.<br />
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This was one of the best meals by far. It is a crispy baked Parmesan chicken breast. What is it the teenage girls say? OMG! The recipe didn't call for buttermilk, but I did marinate the chicken breast in buttermilk all day, while I was at work. The crispy topping was absolutely to die for. I know, the chicken in the picture doesn't look very crispy. That's because there was a whole lotta juicy topping surrounding the chicken that I just couldn't let go to waste...unless it was going to my waste. The other miracle on the plate is the carrots. The main flavorings for the carrots were brown sugar, butter, and ginger. The miracle is that Joseph actually ate them. He ate cooked carrots! THAT is a sign of the apocalypse!<br />
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Finally, this is cranberry chicken, with stuffing and sour cream green beans. The chicken, once again, was out of this world. the glaze is a combination of California French Dressing, Onion soup mix, and whole cranberry cranberry sauce. It is one of those recipes that you initially look at warily. Cranberry sauce and onion soup mix...really! Then, you are surprised with one of the best chicken dishes you have ever eaten. Unfortunately, I can't heap the same praise on the green beans. That is one of those recipes that looks great on paper, but reality is something completely different. You see sour cream, french cut green beans, and Parmesan cheese on the ingredient list, and think, "This has got to be a winner!" Guess what!?! You really can ruin a perfectly good batch of green beans.<br />
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My final adventure involved "Bring your favorite soup to work" day at ... that's right. Work! I had no idea what to bring. Then I went to Beverly's office. Whenever you are in doubt, just go to Beverly's office. She will tell you what to do...or where to go. I didn't want to make my world famous Jose O'Shea's Green Chili. We would have a chili cook off soon, and just like you can't wear the same prom dress twice, I certainly couldn't cook the same chili twice. In all honesty, if I were to really bring my favorite soup to work, it would be a package of chicken ramen. I wasn't sure how well that would go over with the other folks.<br />
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Well, Beverly, being the great and wise guru that she is, suggested I try to make the white bean chicken chili that is served at Ruby Tuesday's. That's exactly what I did, and it must have been a success. I barely had enough left for one bowl that the kids could share at home. Anyway, it has been a while since I've posted a recipe on my blog. Here is my recipe for White Bean Chicken Chili. Once I come up with a regular chili recipe that I think is a winner, I'll have all the colors of the Mexican flag.<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b>White Bean Chicken Chili</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="color: black;">Ingredients</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">Six cups cooked and diced chicken.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">Six cups chicken broth<i> (boil a whole chicken with some veggies to get both your broth and the cooked chicken. It will be much better than any broth you buy at the store, AND you will save money.)</i> </span><b><span style="color: black;"> </span> </b></span><br />
2lb bag of Great Northern Beans<i> (soaked according to directions on bag.)</i><br />
2 medium onions chopped<br />
2 roasted jalapeno peppers, seeded and diced.<br />
1 large Chile Pasillo <i>(or Poblano)</i> roasted and diced<br />
1 small bunch of cilantro<br />
2 tsp ground Cumin<br />
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper<br />
2 garlic cloves, minced<br />
1 can Rotel <i>(diced tomatoes and green chilis)</i><br />
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<b>Directions</b><br />
Roast the pasillo and jalepeno peppers by placing them on a baking sheet, and spraying them with cooking spray. Then put them under the broiler, and allow the skin to blister and char. Watch carefully. You want the peppers roasted, not burnt. You will need to turn the peppers, so all sides can get charred. Take the peppers out of the broiler, and immediately place in a plastic storage bag, or other air tight container. Allow to sweat and cool. When the peppers are cool enough to hold comfortably, the skin should peel off easily.<br />
<b> </b><br />
Place all of the ingredients, except the cilantro, in a slow cooker, and cook on low for 10 to 12 hours. Chop the cilantro, and add during the last hour of cooking. Towards the end, you will want to salt and pepper to taste. I like to add some adobo seasoning. Adobo seasoning is an all purpose seasoning blend <b></b>most Mexican cooks have in their pantries. It adds a nice flavor to many things. If you want your chili to be a little thicker, take a couple cups of beans out in the last hour, and mash them. Stir the mashed beans back in with the rest of the chili.<br />
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Serve with a dollup of sour cream and a little bit of shredded cheddar, or other favorite cheese.<br />
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I'll try not to stay away so long next time. I promise. St. Patrick's day is coming around the corner. It is one of my favorite times to celebrate. I found a good recipe for smoked corned beef. I might just give it a try...and write about it.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-12849756104343150762013-01-09T08:49:00.001-06:002013-01-09T08:49:50.239-06:00The Great Food Junkie Starts 2013 With More Grillin and Chillin!I know many of you have gone into a deep depression because I haven't written as much lately. It is not because I have become a lazy, no good, sloth, who just lays around all day trying to do as little as possible. However, I'm sure some people think that is one of my life goals. Nope! Trust me when I say there has been a whole lotta cooking going on at the GFJ's house. After all, when you get cooking gadgets for Christmas, you have to try them out. I'll get to those in a bit.<br />
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It didn't take long before the GFJ grew tired of all the Christmas food. There is only so much turkey, ham, and assorted sweets a person can handle. So, I went out to the freezer in the garage and started to peruse the shelves. It was only a moment when my eyes landed upon the last of our chuck roasts. Hmmm! Chuck roast sounds good, but I don't really want to break out the slow cooker and have to cut and peel a bunch of potatoes, carrots, and onions. There had to be more to the life of a chuck roast than being stuck in a slow cooker. The poor thing just sat there. Staring at me. A tear fell from its eye.<br />
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"Please, Sir," it begged with hands clasped. "Don't let me become another pot roast. I have so much more potential."<br />
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How could I, the Great Food Junkie, ignore such pleading. I gently picked up the poor sap, and stroked his packaging with my hand. "Come with me, Chuck!" I exclaimed. "You were meant for much greater things. Together, we can make your dreams come true."<br />
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I new what I had to do. I had to figure out some way to grill the chuck roast. After all, what says I love you to a piece of meat like a grill? I found a good marinade recipe that included barbecue sauce, teriyaki sauce, minced garlic, and sliced ginger. I didn't have any teriyaki, so I did the next best thing. I added a little Irish whiskey. I mixed it all up, and poured it over my chuck roast. Then it sat in the fridge for the better part of a day.<br />
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However, I knew Chuck couldn't make this journey to greatness alone. He was going to need a faithful sidekick. It had to be something complimentary, but not overpowering. I put my thinking cap on and came up with new potatoes, skewered and grilled, right alongside Chuck. I went to the store and picked up the potatoes, bamboo skewers, and then it hit me. Bacon! These potatoes need to be intertwined with bacon. The wife looked at me and said, "You need to get thick sliced. The other will just fall apart on the grill." This was indeed going to be a glorious day. I had just been given permission to spend money on thick cut bacon.<br />
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When we got home, we rubbed the potatoes in olive oil and pink Himalayan salt. Then we skewered them, intertwining them with the thick cut bacon. Then, for added measure, Neve took each skewer and wrapped an additional slice of bacon around the potatoes. However, this presented us with a dilemma. We had a few slices of bacon left...but, not enough to save for another meal. Well! Surely Chuck would need the proper outfit for his adventure to greatness. So Chuck came out of the marinade, got a quick dry off, a rubdown with Santa Maria seasoning, and a nice new set of bacon clothes. Then it was out to the grill!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck and his new friends on an adventure</td></tr>
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Those cool things Chuck and friends are sitting on are called GrillGrates. They are anodized aluminum, and have high ridges. They sit directly on your existing grates, or can be used as replacement grates. The nice thing about them is that the ridges get extra hot, providing excellent searing and grill marks, while the juices drip into the deep spaces between the ridges. The juices sizzle and evaporate, creating more flavor and moisture for the meat, and preventing flare ups. You absolutely must check them out at <a href="http://www.grillgrate.com/">www.grillgrate.com</a>. They are one of the best improvements you could make to any grill.<br />
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After about an hour, Chuck and friends reached the pinnacle of success. I truly believe they achieved a personal nirvana. And I was frickin' hungry!<br />
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It wasn't long before The Great Food Junkie had also reached Nirvana. Chuck was a perfect medium pink in the middle, and his sidekicks, the potatoes and bacon, were spectacular.<br />
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The adventures with Chuck the roast were just the beginning for the GFJ. If you'll remember, I mentioned a couple Christmas gifts that had to be tried out. The GFJ's wife received a set of <a href="https://www.buyperfecttortilla.com/PT/10.0000/index.dtm?mid=2881529" target="_blank">tortilla shell pans</a>. You know you've seen the commercials on TV. "Make your own taco salads!" It really is a simple concept. You place burrito size tortillas in these pans, bake for 10-12 minutes, and Presto! You have perfect tortilla shell bowls for a taco salad.<br />
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They don't taste quite as good as the fried shells you get at the restaurant. Can anything really taste better than fried? However, they really are tasty and crispy. In fact, they hold their crisp well enough to fill with chili mac...twice.<br />
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The other device was something the wife and I bought each other for Christmas. I saw one of those "does it work" segments on the news, and it featured the <a href="http://www.yonanas.com/" target="_blank">Yonana</a>. What is a Yonana? It is a device that takes frozen bananas and other fruits or additives, and makes them into a dessert very similar in texture and taste to soft serve ice cream. If you are wanting a healthy alternative to ice cream, or even if you could care less about the health aspect, and want to try something new, you have to check this thing out. The treats that come from it are spectacular. One of the best things is that it isn't frozen cream. It is frozen banana. That means your ice cream doesn't melt! The pictures below, do not do this thing justice at all. The first was a raspberry, blueberry, and strawberry yonana. It tasted great! However, nothing puts a damper on eating dessert like fighting tons of raspberry seeds. Oh well. The second was a yonana made with a tropical fruit blend of strawberries, mangos, and pineapple. That was an absolute hit. The key is to get your bananas as ripe as you can before freezing. The blacker the peel, the better the banana. This ensures your bananas are providing the maximum sweetness, while not overpowering the dish with their own flavor.<br />
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I think the Great Food Junkie has made up for his lack of communications in this entry. He is going to sign off before your snoring gets too loud for the neighbors. I hope you all have a wonderful new year, and I look forward to all of our 2013 food adventures. Until next time, when the GFJ takes a bite out of Bambi, Goodbye!<br />
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<br />Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-34182277780056752352012-12-26T01:36:00.000-06:002012-12-26T01:36:31.423-06:00The Great Food Junkie Wishes One and All a Very Merry Christmas!Were you starting to think that the Great Food Junkie was going to play the part of Ebenezer Scrooge this year? I know my readers are completely heartbroken that they haven't heard from me since just after Thanksgiving. I promise that I had always intended to write something for Christmas. I even have a few pictures to show you. The Great Food Junkie has been busy cooking this Christmas. Unfortunately, He didn't always remember to take pictures.<br />
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Christmas has always been the holiday most associated with traditions. For me, that has held true this Christmas season more than most. This holiday has been about traditions my family has practiced for years, reviving even older traditions, and starting new ones. There were times I thought Topol was going to come around the corner, singing "Traditions!"<br />
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Let's start with orange slice cake. Orange slice cake has been one of those traditions that has been in my family for many years. Apparently, the tradition started for us around 1973. It was at that time that my mother was first introduced to this delight. She asked for the recipe, and finally received it in May of that year, as we were preparing to move. Orange slice cake is one of those desserts that can easily be mistaken for a fruit cake. If you are one of those who comes across an orange slice cake, and mistakes it for a fruit cake, you are certainly going to miss a wonderful treat...unless you are love fruit cake...then hopefully, you are delighted to be introduce to a new treat.<br />
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Orange slice cake is a wonderful mixture of chopped orange slice gummy candies, dates, coconut, and pecans, covered in a scrumptious orange juice glaze. If the orange slice cake has not been sliced yet, do not fear. It is still easily identifiable...even if still covered. It will be the cake causing the greatest sag in the table. I do like to some times refer to orange slice cake as "How many calories can you pack into one cake" cake. Quite simply, the cake is super rich, super heavy, and has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. But, it is one of the greatest pleasures you will ever taste.<br />
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Do any of you GFJ readers remember spiced gum drops? They were these little brightly colored gummy candies coated in sugar crystals. One of my memories as a kid in the seventies was my mother making gum drop cookies for Christmas. I wanted to make some for Christmas so I called my mother and asked for the recipe. Much to my dismay I was informed that she threw that recipe away because she was tired of hearing my brother and I complain about having to cut gum drops. Apparently, complaining was another holiday tradition my brother and I participated in. Fortunately, there is a thing called the internet. A quick search brought up the recipe at the <a href="http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Gumdrop-Cookies" target="_blank">Taste of Home</a> website. I tried it out, and the results immediately took me back to my childhood. Fortunately, it didn't take me back so far I ended up in a scary pair of plaid bell bottom pants.<br />
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Pictured with those cookies is some apple cider. That is one of my new traditions. I've drunk apple cider many times, but have never really made it. I took a gallon of apple cider and poured it into my slowcooker, set on high. Into the cider, I put two cinnamon sticks, ten whole cloves, six allspice berries, one inch of fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced, and a thinly sliced orange. I let it steep on high for about two hours, then set the slow cooker to warm. This will definitely become a new Christmas tradition. As the picture shows, it is great chilled as well.<br />
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Another new tradition is pimiento cheese wafers. For many years, I have cooked cheese cookies, which are a simple mixture of rice crispies, cheddar cheese, butter, flour, and a touch of cayenne. This year I tried something different. It was my wife's fault. She came home from her office Christmas party talking about these wonderful pimiento cheese cookies her coworker brought. She asked for the recipe. We waited, and waited. Being somewhat impatient, I once again decided to turn to my friend the internet. I found a good looking recipe. Of course, once I had bought all of the ingredients, the coworker emailed her recipe...which was nothing like the one I was using. Oh well. Below are the results.<br />
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I followed the recipe, but something tells me they could have baked for at least another five minutes. They just didn't crisp up as much as I liked. However, my son seems to like these even more than the regular cheese cookies. According to him, Rusty and T-Bone are great fans as well. Apparently, I have just created a new Christmas dog treat.<br />
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The final tradition is brunch. For about ten years now, our family has enjoyed brunch on Christmas morning. It's not a fancy brunch. Simply a breakfast casserole, and one or two side items. Unfortunately, the casserole this year is one of those things I never got a picture of. It is like the orange slice cake, in that it has very little redeeming value other than absolute great taste. Take twelve slices of bread and cut it into cubes. spread half the cubes in the bottom of a greased 13x9 baking dish. Then sprinkle on a pound of cooked crumbled breakfast sausage. Cube one pound of Velveeta cheese and evenly layer about two thirds over the sausage and bread. Layer the remaining bread, followed by the rest of the cheese. In a bowl beat nine eggs, three cups milk, a teaspoon of mustard, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Poor the egg mixture over the other ingredients in the baking dish. Cover, and allow to chill overnight. When ready, bake uncovered at 350 for one to one and a half hours, until a knife inserted comes out clean. Like I said, it has little redeeming value, but it sure tastes great!<br />
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I just have one tradition to go. I have my black eyed peas and ham hock ready for New Years Day. So what traditions do you have for the holidays? Please share.<br />
<br />Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-25406992020448824612012-11-26T22:43:00.001-06:002012-11-26T22:43:34.786-06:00A Little Thanks Is Better Late Than NeverI know it seems a little strange that I am just now doing a Thanksgiving related post, but I do have good reason...I promise. It all started the weekend before. Our Boy Scout troop always has a special campout in Missisippi. The boys and their families come down for a weekend of fun and fellowship. It all culminates in a huge Thanksgiving feast on that Saturday night. We gather around, say a prayer...<br />
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...and eat! <br />
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This is one of my favorite times of the year. I'm one of the cooks for this event. It is hard work, cooking an entire weekend for over seventy people, but it is an experience I wouldn't give up. I can't think of a better way to show my thanks to all of the boys for all of the hard work they put into making the troop as great as it is, and to their families for putting their faith in me and the other leaders to help turn their boys into great leaders.<br />
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The other reason I go on this campout is my son, Joseph. I am so thankful for him and to him.<br />
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What I am not necessarily thankful for is the stomach bug Joseph brought home with him from the campout. Not only did it keep him home from school for two days, it jumped to his sister, then to me. A little more about that later.<br />
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The holiday started out well. The wife and I took Wednesday off. It was to be a day of preparation for the holiday. Well, it ended up being a day of babysitting. A coworker of Neva's needed us to watch her granddaughter for the day. It certainly wasn't how I planned the day, but it was loads of fun. I'd love to show you a picture of the little princess who gave me my grandpappy fix, but I don't have permission. It was certainly an unplanned day that I am greatful for. Then came Thursday...<br />
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I am downstairs at 6AM, getting the Turkey on the grill for smoking. I get the turkey started and set the alarm for two hours later. The couch sure looks like a good place to lay down for a couple hours. Two hours later I wake up with the realization that my wonderful children have passed their stomach bug on to me. This Thanksgiving, I am truly thankful for the couch in the living room. It proved to be a comforting place to spend the day.<br />
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Fortunately, things started looking up some the next day. Not enough for me to join the early, early shift with hotdog sales a Lowes (sorry, Danny and Jeff), but at least I was no longer needing to keep close to a certain room. It's a good thing my energy was coming back. I would need it the next day.<br />
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Saturday came. It started out with two people in the house. Sissy had spent the night at her best friend's house, while Joseph spent the night with Sissy's boyfriend. I know those are strange arrangements, but they are certainly preferable to Sissy spending the night at the boyfriend's house! By Saturday evening, the house went from two people to six. Yes, the Strickland population was multiplying like rabbits. We found ourselves suddenly with three teens and one just past his teens sleeping that night...boys downstairs, and girls upstairs.<br />
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I don't want it to sound like I am complaining. I am certainly not. While having four youngun's at the house is certainly tiring, it makes me feel special. Our house is not neat by any means. In fact, I think we have the market cornered on dust bunnies. Let's just say it is very...VERY...lived in. Fortunately, there is something in our house that can be found in even more abundance than the dust bunnies and cobwebs. It is love. I am truly thankful for that love. It is amazing what your kids' friends are willing to overlook when they feel the love and comfort of family in the house. So I would like to say a special thanks for my kids...all four of them.<br />
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The weekend ended with lots of Christmas decorations inside and out. It was certianly a strange Thanksgiving holiday for me, but all in all, one I will remember fondly. It is amazing how God can turn a potential disaster into something special. Thanks.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-22086661710896683272012-11-01T13:46:00.001-05:002012-11-01T13:46:49.222-05:00Embrace Life! Take Chances! Eat something you can't pronounce!All to often, we humans have a tendency to stick with what's safe. We were all brought up eating a certain type of food, and we rarely try to venture away from those dishes and foods that make us comfortable. This is too bad. There are so many tasty adventures waiting and waiting for someone to partake of them.<br />
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It just so happens that one day I was riding with Neva, taking Christina to driving school way out in Germantown. On the way out, we passed the Cordova International Farmers Market. I vaguely remembered reading an article in the Commercial Appeal when this market first opened. I convinced Neva and Christina that we needed to stop there on the way back home. Most people think of just a few things when they think of Memphis Culture; blues, rock & roll, and barbecue. All three of these are definitely core parts of Memphis culture. What many people don't realize (including native Memphians) is that Memphis and the surrounding suburbs have a very large and diverse immigrant community. In recent years, this has been reflected by the opening of an international farmers market on Winchester, followed by it's slightly larger sibling, the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cordova-Farmers-Market-International/140323126102230" target="_blank">Cordova International Farmers Market</a> (CIFM). I know I am a little late to the game of trumpeting about this place, but better late than never.<br />
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The CIFM is on Germantown Parkway, in the location that housed the old Seesel's supermarket. When you first walk in your jaw immediately drops. If only every supermarket could have a produce section the size of this one. Wow! Walking through all of these fruits and vegetables immediately becomes an adventure. You find your self surrounded by fruits and veggies you are very familiar with, as well as some you may have never heard of. Have you ever heard of a pomelo? I hadn't. They look like deep green grapefruit. Come to find out, pomelos are actually a much older form of citrus than grapefruit. In fact, grapefruit are a hybrid of pomelos and oranges.<br />
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What about chinese okra? Let me warn you, they look nothing like the okra we are used to here in the south. It turns out they aren't even remotely related. Chinese okra are diced, and used as a green vegetable filler in Chinese dishes. If allowed to grow to maturity, they become extremely fibrous and are used to make loofa scrubbers.<br />
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The entire produce department is like this. One amazing item after another. And the prices! You will be hard pressed to find better prices anywhere. On a funny note, after seeing "Made in China" for so many years on so many products purchased in the US, it was refreshing to see Chinese Eggplant: A product of the United States of America.<br />
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This market doesn't just end with the produce. It has a wonderful fresh fish and seafood department. One of the first things you see when approaching this department is rows of tanks, full of live catfish and tilapia. I did notice that some of the seafood seemed frozen. Is seafood still considered "fresh" if it is frozen at the sight of capture? Either way, it still looked wonderful, and there was definitely a fresh fish odor about this section, which is always a sign of good quality.<br />
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The meat section did not seem quite as large as some of your larger supermarkets, but it had a very wide variety of products. Chicken feet anyone? How about bull's um, unmentionables. While the beef selection was not as large as most supermarkets, it was certainly high quality, and at a fabulous price. The CIFM had some1"-1.5" beautiful ribeye steaks for $5.59/lb. That is only $1 more than I bought my chuck eye steaks (the poor man's ribeye) at Kroger.<br />
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Once you get past the meat section, you get to the rest of the market. At first, it resembles the rows of packaged goods we are accustomed to getting at a supermarket. However, if you are willing to be adventurous don't shun this part of the market. Each aisle contains food from a specific country, or area of the world. There is food from Japan, Korea, Mexico, Brazil, the Caribbean, Europe, India, and much more. It is fun walking up and down these aisles, seeing how different, yet the same, we are with other cultures. Our family has already fallen in love with Mexican Cokes and some flavored water drinks from Singapore.<br />
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Needless to say, I could not leave the CIFM empty-handed on my first trip. Upon stopping, I already had something on my mind to make. I had been wanting to make a ratatouille. The name sounds fancy, but it is a simple French vegetable stew/casserole. It is hard to say which it is because ratatouille is one of those dishes that is made in a variety of ways, and everyone swears that his/her recipe is the true version. Some people sauté ratatouille, some stew it in a pot, and others bake it. The version I chose was a baked version. Christina and I quickly walked through the produce section again and picked up some red and green peppers, yellow squash, zucchini squash, onion, garlic, Italian parsley and some of the most beautiful purple and white variegated eggplant. The recipe called for skinned, diced, and seeded tomatoes as well. That's what canned tomatoes are for!<br />
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I diced all of the vegetables, and minced the garlic and parsley. I then sautéed the eggplant, onion, and garlic until the eggplant was nice and tender (about 10 minutes). At the last minute, I added some of the parsley. I oiled my lasagne pan with olive oil, then spread the eggplant mixture across the bottom. I sprinkled that layer with salt and parmesan cheese. Then I layered the red and green onions, followed by another sprinkle of salt and parmesan, as well as more Italian parsley. The next layer was the yellow squash and zucchini, followed by...I think you know. The final layer was the canned diced tomatoes, followed by the salt, cheese, and parsley. By the time I was done, I couldn't add another layer of anything in that dish. I baked it at 350 for one hour, and ended up with this.<br />
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It is certainly colorful. I paired this ratatouille with some nice marinated pork loin chops for a healthy, but VERY tasty supper.<br />
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It looks even tastier once you've taken a spoon and mixed all the vegetables together. I love how it retained the bright colors. I wasn't sure how the ratatouille would be taken, since Joseph is not a fan of half the vegetables in the ingredient list. Suffice it to say there was only enough left for Neva and I to take a small amount in our lunches the next day. I would call that a hit.<br />
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Christina and Neva have already made a second trip to the Cordova International Farmers Market. I look forward to going there on a regular basis myself. I hope to see you there some time.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-86152619512820912622012-10-09T14:17:00.002-05:002012-11-01T13:58:16.669-05:00Beef eaters unite! The Flat Iron is for you!I like steak. No, I love steak. The problem is that my wallet is highly allergic to the cost of steak. A good ribeye can easily cost upwards of $8 to $9 per pound. Go for a New York Strip, T-Bone, or Porterhouse, and you just about have to take out a mortgage. At prices like that, the closest our family usually comes to steak is tube steak. For those of you not versed in the various cuts of steak, "tube steak" is a more refined name for hotdog.<br />
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One day, we received a giftcard for Longhorn's Steakhouse. I forget the occasion, but that really doesn't matter for this story. On the particular day we decided to use this giftcard, Sissy was otherwise occupied, so it was just Neva, Joseph, and me. We had $50 dollars on this card and Joseph was determined we are going to have steak. I made it clear to everyone that we could each spend $13 dollars, leaving just enough on the card for tips. Needless to say, we didn't walk into the restaurant with very high hopes. We walked in, and, before being seated, asked for a menu. It was starting to look like chicken that night when I spotted one steak within our price range. We were staying.<br />
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The steak we decided to try was a flat iron steak. I had never heard of it before. It came out in an 8oz portion, about one inch thick. It is supposedly called a flat iron steak because it resembles the old fashioned flat irons of old. Much to my surprise and delight, it came out absolutely delicious. It was tender, like a filet, but still had the taste of a ribeye. This steak was definitely a winner.<br />
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Unfortunately, I could not find the flat iron in any stores. It turns out that this cut of meat is more popular, therefore, easier to find, out west. Just as I was about to give up hope, I was looking through the meat department at my local Kroger, and saw this long strip of vacuum sealed beef. Upon closer inspection, it was labeled as a flat iron steak. Even more importantly, it was about $9.50 for a two pound strip. That was just $4.75/lb. I convinced Neva that it was a necessary item for the grocery cart, and started salivating over the thoughts of grilling it. A few days later, that steak was sectioned into four 8oz pieces, and slapped on the grill. Below are the results.<br />
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Isn't that one tasty looking slab of beef!?! Trust me when I tell you that it tasted just as good as it looks. Now, don't go jumping down my throat, complaining about me putting way too much sour cream on my potato. My family does try to occasionally eat right. We stopped eating sour cream quite a while ago. What you see on that potato is plain Greek yogurt. It's taste is very close to that of sour cream, but without all of the fat. The steak is genuine though ... fat and all.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Update:</span></b> A good friend of mine (we'll call her Melinda...because that's her name) told her that her butcher recommended the chuck eye steak as an inexpensive alternative to those pricier cuts of beef. I decided to check it out. It turns out that the chuck eye steak is cut from the part of the beef chuck that enters the rib cage and connects to the part of the cow where ribeyes come from. In fact, they are often called the "Poor Man's Ribeye" because they resemble ribeyes in taste and tenderness, without the cost. The main thing that distinguishes chuckeyes from ribeyes is that the chuckeye steak definitely has more connective tissue running through it. At $5.99/lb, I was certainly willing to try. I found a pack of six. I marinated them for half an hour in a mixture of butter and a thirty minute steak marinade.<br />
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After grilling these things, I can see why the butcher is so reluctant to let his customers know about them. He can only get 3-5 chuckeye steaks per cow, and he wants to keep them all to himself.<br />
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There, you have it. Two excellent alternatives to the more expensive cuts of meat; flatiron and chuckeye steaks. Enjoy your steaks, and stay fiscally sound.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-78029369346789148212012-09-17T13:08:00.002-05:002012-09-17T13:16:09.263-05:00Smokey says, "Only you can prevent grill fires!"So...let me explain that cryptic title. You might remember that with my last post I had just finished cooking ribs. One of the side effects of slow smoking ribs is very fatty and sugary drippings. Just keep that in mind.<br />
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The other day, we decided to have some leg and thigh quarters, cooked on the grill. Those were quickly becoming one of our favorite things to cook on the Sawtooth. For one thing, it just about takes an act of God (or stupidity) to dry out leg and thigh quarters. You are almost 100% guaranteed juicy chicken. Quarters are one of the absolute least expensive cuts of any type of meat you can purchase for grilling. I like to have the butcher season my quarters before purchasing. That allows the seasoning plenty of time to get into the meat. This last time, I had him use lemon pepper seasoning, and boy did he ever. I almost had to look twice to make sure there really was chicken under all of that seasoning.<br />
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One of my fondest memories of childhood was my Grandpa's barbecued chicken. His chicken was not covered in a sloppy sweet barbecue sauce. Instead, it was really grilled chicken that he would baste with a special sauce that contained lemon, butter, and other ingredients. I say, "other ingredients" because I truly don't know what the other ingredients were. I have learned to make my own baste, using a stick of margarine, a whole lemon (or a quarter cup lemon juice), a quarter cup red wine vinegar, a couple tablespoons of light soy sauce, some Greek seasoning, and a cup of water. I let all of it come to a boil, then remove it from the heat.<br />
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So...back to my story. I took the chicken and placed it on the grill, skin side down, and basted it. All was looking good.<br />
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About 15-20 minutes later, I checked the chicken again, and rebasted. That's when things fell apart. I went into the kitchen and started having a pleasant conversation with the wife. (They really do seem to pop up a lot in stories of male goof-ups, and they usually end up looking much smarter.) Well, it just so happened to be one of those rare golden moments when the kids were in the living room...actually getting along...and we were getting deeper and deeper into our conversation. Then I sniffed the air. Hmmm. I shouldn't be smelling that type of odor. That does not smell like chicken slowly cooking on a "non-flare-up" wood pellet grill. I looked out the back door. To my wondering eyes appeared a thick envelope of smoke with bright orange flames just to the right. I ran outside, and...well...let's just say I did not have one of my more glorious moments of self control. The bad news is that a whole lotta Hail Mary's are going to be needed to fully recover. The good news is that my creative side came up with a whole slew of new adjectives to properly describe how I was feeling at the moment. Anyway, after this rather embarrassing moment ended with a pitcher of water tossed on the grill, I was left with the following result.<br />
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Chicken, anyone?<br />
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I guess it "no flare-ups" only applies if you change the foil after cooking greasy, sugary ribs on your grill. Who knew? Anyway, we did actually have chicken that night. With the fire extinguished, I continued to grill and baste the chicken. Remember, earlier I told you it just about takes an act of God to dry out leg and thigh quarters. Fortunately, He took pity on me. After removing the burned skin, there was actually some very tasty chicken underneath. I even managed to pull one more triumph from the jaws of this disaster. A few nights later, I took the three uneaten quarters, and turned them into one of the best tasting chicken gumbos to have ever passed between my lips!<br />
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Yes, Virginia! Miracles do happen...even for grown men who make stupid mistakes at the grill.<br />
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<b><i>Update: I really should read my own blog more often. Apparently, I never did write a blog about my ribs...I just ate 'em and left it at that! </i></b>Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-88610343079038447512012-08-24T10:15:00.002-05:002012-08-24T10:15:34.352-05:00What do you get when you cross a proper Brit with a Rajun Cajun?You get Yorkshire Jambalaya Pie.<br />
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Now, let me explain. I was visiting one of my favorite websites the other day: <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/">www.irishamericanmom.com</a>. This website has some of the best Irish recipes. I found one that I was wanting to give a try. <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/2012/01/21/yorkshire-pudding-a-classic-british-side-for-roast-beef/" target="_blank">Yorkshire Pudding</a>. At the same time, I have had a craving for some of the foods that are considered more cool weather comfort foods, such as chili and chicken pot pie. The recipe for the yokshire pudding called for it to be made in muffin tins. However, it mentioned that it was originally baked in a single dish. The picture associated with this recipe showed some super fluffy, muffin type morsels. I thought to myself, this looks like it would make a good light and fluffy top to a chicken pot pie.<br />
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So...the plans were to make a Yorkshire Pot Pie. When I am making a new creation, I sometimes go on a tangent that takes me down a completely different path. I pulled some chicken breasts out of the freezer, and saw a smoked sausage. I thought to myself, "That sausage looks like it would be really tastey, cubbed up and placed in my pot pie. I got some flour, salt, pepper, and thyme and mixed it all up. I then poured my flour mixture in a gallon freezer bag, and tossed cubed chicken breast in it. While doing this, I thought about the veggies that would go in my pot pie. I had all sorts of dried veggies, and I started thinking that I would like to use those in my pie, instead of just opening a can or two of veg-all. While I was frying my chicken and sausage in one pan. I was boiling dried carrots, green and red peppers, onions, and diced tomatoes in another pan with some of my home made turkey stock.<br />
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Once the meat was thoroughly cooked through, I poured in the reconstituted veggies and stock. I then added milk, and a couple heaping tablespoons of Greek yogurt. I also added some Tony Cachere's creole seasoning, garlic powder, and just a little salt and pepper. Once thickened, I poured into my lasagna pan and covered with the yorkshire pudding batter. It baked at 425 for thirty minutes, then got brushed with melted butter and sprinkled with kosher salt and cracked black pepper, and tossed under the broiler until golden brown. The result came out looking pretty spectacular.<br />
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This was no ordinary chicken pot pie. It definitely had a Louisiana flavor to it. Thus the Yorkshire Jambalaya Pie was born. The way that pan was left without a scrap in sight, I have a funny feeling this pie is going to reborn multiple times. Who knew a Brit and a Cajun could make such a beautiful child? ;-)Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-42910261326112466222012-08-22T08:22:00.000-05:002012-08-22T23:35:14.324-05:00The Turkey in the Straw Has Come to CallThose of you who have just recovered from your heart attacks that were induced by two blog entries in one week, might need to take some preventative measures. Here's the third entry. Two entries ago, I promised a smoked turkey on my new <a href="http://sawtoothwoodpelletgrills.com/" target="_blank">Sawtooth</a> wood pellet grill. It has taken a bit, but here we go. This little write up should remain relatively short in comparison to most of my other ramblings. That's because of the nice little video surprise at the end of the entry. You heard me right! A video! Now, who can say I don't treat my readers right. I must warn you, though. There is some nudity in the video. That's probably going to make you skip the rest of this blathering and head straight there.<br />
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If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, or you have read previous blog entries, you know that one of my favorite activities is smoking turkeys. In fact, it has been several years since a turkey has actually graced my oven. In the past, I always smoked my turkeys on a large charcoal grill that had a side fire box. This allows for proper smoking with the indirect heat method. As you may remember from <a href="http://thegreatfoodjunkie.blogspot.com/2012/04/memphis-in-may-nah-its-march-and-heat.html" target="_blank">my previous post about smoking a turkey</a>, the skin becomes a dark, almost mahogany, color. This is due to the massive amounts of smoke produced by throwing chunks of hickory in the side fire box. While this produces a turkey with an absolutely mouth watering smoked taste, it also produces a skin that is beautiful to look at, but only palatable to the few with cast iron stomachs, like my son. It is common knowledge that the skin is sacrificed for the flavor in the meat when using this method of smoking.<br />
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Wood pellet grills use what I would call a semi-indirect method of smoking. The fire pot is inside the grill, instead of outside. This puts the heat source closer to the meat. However, the drip/flavorizer pan prevents any flames from being able to reach whatever food items are on the grill. Also, instead of wood chunks that burn very slowly, wood pellet grills use...well, wood pellets. These burn at a somewhat faster rate, even on the low "smoke" setting. Therefore, the amount of smoke produced is sufficient for creating that smoked flavor, but nowhere near the amount that is produced in the traditional method. This could be good, or bad, depending on who you ask. Some people absolutely crave that super strong smoked flavor that comes off a traditional smoker. However, some people want a milder smoked flavor, and dearly wish to eat a super crunchy turkey skin. That is what you get with a wood pellet grill; a milder (but definitely present) smoked flavor, and crunchy, yummy, skin.<br />
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I usually brine my turkeys. The master BBQers will tell you to never brine a turkey from the supermarket, because it has already been injected with a broth or salt water solution. That may be the case, but they are still as bland a shoe leather. I have never had a brined turkey that turned out too salty. However, I chose a completely different method of keeping my turkey moist this time. I had a bottle of <a href="http://shop.tonychachere.com/roasted-garlic-herb-17-oz-p-21704.html" target="_blank">Tony Cachere's Roasted Garlic and Herb</a> marinade. I injected that marinade ALL over the turkey. Wow! I mean, Wow! Between that marinade and the crispy skin on the turkey...I don't know if you could get any closer to heaven without actually being there. The turkey was so juicy. Since it was roasted garlic, the garlic flavor was mild. It was definitely there, but not in an overpowering way. See how I did the wings in the picture above? I learned to tuck them under the bird. This keeps them from flopping, and makes the bird more stable. The cool thing is that all the sugars in the marinade and rub collected at the bottom of the turkey. Those sugars, along with the natural sugars in the skin were in direct contact with the grill, creating a wonderful caramelization. Eating parts of the chicken wing meat and skin was literally like eating candy. I do think it just about got Neva speaking in tongues.<br />
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I promised a short blog, and here we are. It's only four paragraphs. Ok! They were long paragraphs. A little about the video below. It is a short "How-to" video on smoking a turkey on a wood pellet grill. It is my first instructional video, so I do realize some of the tips could have been slowed down a bit for those who aren't speed readers. Sorry. This was Christina's first time as a camera man(woman). Some of the footage is slightly out of focus, but I think she did a whizbang job for her first time. Thanks, Christina. I hope you enjoy this.<br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-81226577357521514772012-08-21T08:32:00.000-05:002012-08-21T08:32:03.501-05:00Move over, Ruth's Chris. There's a new joint in town!Anybody who reads my blog regularly, and knows who Ruth's Chris is, is probably wondering what this entry has to do with smoked turkey. It is true that my famous last words were, "Next up, smoked turkey." Okay, they really were "Y'all come back soon!', but I'm hoping you won't mind me taking a little artistic license with what were really the next to last words. I'm also hoping you won't mind this little detour into the land of beef, while we are on the way to turkey.<br />
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Anywho! I digress. For those who don't know, Ruth's Chris is a chain of very highfalutin steak houses. It's one of those restaurants where you have to take out a mortgage for a meal that will have you swearing you are sitting at the great banquet table on high. The worst part is that you will feel it was worth every penny...as you tuck yourself into your brand new cardboard box for the night.<br />
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We don't eat steak often at our house. It's not that we don't like it. I think my above description of Ruth's Chris pretty much puts that fallacy to rest. There are a few reasons. After years of trying (not too successfully, I might add) to eat healthy, and focus more on poultry, fish, and pork, my stomach has become pretty sensitive to beef. Please don't force me to go into detail. Now, I'm one of the lucky one's who takes one of those daily stomach pills, which also takes care of the sensitivity to beef. The main reason, we don't eat steaks much is price. Once you've been spoiled by the best, you just don't want to go home with one of those scrawny little supermarket steaks. Especially, since even the cheap paper thin steaks cost an arm and a leg...AND I have to buy two family packs because I have a family of four, and the supermarket (whom shall remain nameless...KROGER) thinks every family unit contains three members. Now, if the cheap steaks that are cut so thin that they almost classify as carpaccio, are expensive, just imagine how much the good ones cost!<br />
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Like I said. We don't eat steak often at our house. Imagine my surprise when I was walking by the meat clearance section of that nameless supermarket, and I happened upon a pack of four (Not three!!) 11oz ribeye steaks. These things were absolutely gorgeous, and were begging me to take them home. $26 is a lot to spend for one pack of meat, but that really only comes to $6.50 per 11oz steak. You can't get that type of price on a ribeye at your cheap gristle and chicken restaurants. Besides, I had this wonderful new wood pellet grill being delivered that needed to be properly tested. Into the basket the steaks went...after a few minutes of begging with the wife.<br />
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This was going to be a good test. One of the chief complaints about wood pellet grills is, while they do an excellent job at low and slow cooking, they just don't get hot enough to provide a proper sear to a steak. What is so important about a sear? On a piece of meat that is going to be cooked at a high temperature, and can quickly lose it's precious juices, searing is needed to basically "cauterize" the wounded flesh. Sounds kinda gross, but that really is what searing does. It cauterizes the meat, and locks in the juices. Anyone who has had the misfortune of eating a dry steak can attest to just how important that is.<br />
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One of the reasons I purchased a <a href="http://www.sawtoothpelletgrills.com/" target="_blank">Sawtooth</a> pellet grill, is because Doug (remember him from my previous post?) promised me it would get hot enough to sear. That means it had to reach a minimum temperature of 450 degrees, preferably 500 degrees or higher. When I was ready to cook, the temp gauge was reading just above 450. I remembered that on a previous test the surface temperature proved to be about 20 degrees hotter that the top of the dome, where the temp gauge is. It is quite possible the grill could have gotten hotter, but I was satisfied with 500. I wanted to sear...not burn.<br />
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My first test was to be a grilled summer salad. What!?! You heard me correctly. It is amazing how much the flavor profile of a standard green salad changes when you grill it. I took thick 1/2 inch slices of red onion, brushed them with olive oil, and sprinkled both sides with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper. I then placed those onion slices on the grill. After 8-10 minutes, I flipped them over for another 8-10 minutes. I also cut some romaine hearts in half, lengthwise, and brushed the flat surface with olive oil, followed by a sprinkling of kosher salt. During the last two minutes of cooking for the onions, I placed the romaine on the grill, flat side facing down. Two minutes at high heat was just enough to provide a little char on the surface of the lettuce, without completely wilting it.<br />
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Take the lettuce and onions, give them a rough chop, mix in some grape tomatoes, then drizzle with a small amount of your favorite salad dressing. Joseph and I like to make dill pickles in the summer. Our favorite dressing is a simple mixture of the leftover pickle juice from a jar of pickles, mixed with enough mayonnaise to just about fill the pint jar. The final grilled summer salad is below. Please excuse the bluriness, I was in lala land, and didn't notice that I still had the camera on manual focus.<br />
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Next up...the whole reason for cranking up the grill this night. I had just slathered the steaks in a mixture of oil and butter. The butter adds flavor, and the oil both helps the kosher salt to stick, as well as allowing the surface of the steak to get even hotter. Just before slapping the steaks on the grill, I sprinkled one side liberally with kosher salt. Since kosher salt granules are larger, they don't dissolve in liquid as easily as regular table salt. This ensures little bursts of flavor as you are eating your steak. I honestly feel that a properly salted and peppered steak NEVER needs steak sauce. While you don't want to pour the entire salt mine on the steak, you do want to be liberal with the salt, as much of it will fall off in the grill. I placed the steaks on the grill grates salted side down, then proceeded to salt the other side. I closed the lid, then after two minutes, I turned the steaks a quarter turn, and cooked for another four minutes. I then gently flipped the steaks, and cooked them for another four minutes on the other side. After pulling the steaks off the grill, I placed them in a dish and covered with foil, so they could rest while we ate our salads. When it came time to eat our steaks, all four of us had juicy medium-rare steaks...just the way we like them!.<br />
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While eating our steaks, I did make the comment that while seared properly, the grill grates that came with the <a href="http://www.sawtoothpelletgrills.com/" target="_blank">Sawtooth</a> grill did not produce proper grill marks. I believe the response I got from Joseph was, "Who cares!?! These are good!" I think that's what he said as he continued to stuff meat into his mouth.<br />
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Next year I might invest in a set of <a href="http://www.grillgrate.com/" target="_blank">GrillGrates</a>. These are a set of grill grates that can either rest on top of your current ones, or replace them. They provide the same type of "infrared" grilling that <a href="http://www.charbroil.com/grills/tru-infrared-grills.html" target="_blank">Charbroil</a> is providing on their newer grills. It is supposed to be an excellent way of searing, and providing those beloved grill marks. Then again, maybe not. After all, who can argue with...<br />
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"Who cares!?! These are good!"Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-5117462964417954322012-08-18T15:21:00.003-05:002012-08-18T15:23:34.545-05:00Finally! It's Time For Some Grillin' And Some Chillin'!I know! I hear you loud and clear! Grillin' and Chillin' time started waaaaay before the middle of August. The problem is that I'm lazy. There. I said it. I'm lazy. My gas grill burners and flavorizors rusted out a while back. On top of that, my propane ran out. What can I say? It was going to cost almost as much to replace the parts as it would to buy a new basic gas grill. I haven't been totally without a grill. I have my Chargriller Super Smoker Pro. However, that sucker is big, and kind of a pain to get going just to do a quick dinner for four. Now the other day, I had eight leg and thigh quarters to cook. The Chargriller was perfect for that. I had enough space to cook the quarters, and enough space for a cool zone, in case of flare-ups. In addition, it is perfect for smoking turkeys, ribs, and pork shoulders. After all, that is why I got it.<br />
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However, I was really beginning to miss going out on the back deck and cranking up the grill for a nice easy dinner. I have to be honest. Laziness wasn't the only reason for not replacing the gas grill. The other was that a gas grill wasn't what I was really wanting. My brother had been trying to talk me into getting a wood pellet grill. They aren't cheap, though. Finally, the right set of circumstances fell in place, and I was ready to get one. Of course, this long wait had given me the opportunity to do a lot of research on wood pellet grills. For looks, there are two basic types of wood pellet grills. You have your barrel grills, like Traegers,<br />
Brinkmanns, and some Louisiana grills, and you have the style that looks more like your typical gas grill. Looks (as well as space) were important to me, since this grill would be on display on my deck. I heard one main complaint about the barrel grills. They all seemed to have a hard time getting to the high 450 degree and above temperatures needed for searing foods. Another problem was build quality. Apparently, Traeger recently moved production of their grills to China, and quality seems to have suffered. I don't know where the Brinkmann wood pellet grill is made, but I was seeing reviews for it that were so-so at best. The Louisiana grills do seem to have a devoted following, but I decided I wanted a look more modern.<br />
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If you go with the modern look you have choices between such brands as Mak, Yoder, and Memphis Grills. All are excellent quality brands, with prices to match (I'm talking thousands of dollars. Yikes!!!!!) Then, one day, I ran across a brand I had never heard before. <a href="http://www.sawtoothpelletgrills.com/" target="_blank">Sawtooth Pellet Grills</a>. I emailed the company, and got a reply from Doug. Poor Doug. I doubt he ever got bombarded by so may question filled emails about the products he sells. To make a long story short (in case some of you readers are still awake at this point) I found out the following. Sawtooth pellet grills are made in Star, Idaho. This is a definite plus for those looking to buy American. Another plus is that is is made of 16 gauge steel. This is important, because the thicker the gauge of steel, the easier it will be to retain and regulate the heat in the grill. 16 gauge was the highest I found of any grills. The Sawtooth grills use the same controls as the Louisiana grills. This control is a nice compromise between the simple controls with Low/Medium/High settings, and those that are digitally controlled. While the Sawtooth controls don't give quite the precision of a digital control, it does have nineteen different steps between Low/Smoke and High. It also has a Prime button, which is great for adding a little more fuel to the fire to make recovery from opening the lid faster.<br />
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Sold!<br />
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Sawtooth grills come in two models, SPG-400 and SPG-600. The number in the model denotes the approximate amount of grill surface. The SPG-400 has 440 square inches of grilling surface. Each size is sold in two packages. The basic package is the grill only. The Extra package includes front and side shelves, and a grill cover. I chose the basic package. I can add shelves later, if I really need them, and I can get a good grill cover at the local hardware store. After waiting on pins and needles, my baby (Excuse me, Dear. Our baby) arrived. Two hours after I got home, with the help of my son and Christina's boyfriend, I had the handsome beast below.<br />
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In case you are wondering, that giant black box with the glowing blue light is the wood pellet hopper. Instead of propane or charcoal, this grill uses pellets made of compressed hardwoods. Don't let the extension cord fool you into thinking this is just an electric grill. It actually uses very little power. The grill has an auger that turns and feeds the wood pellets into a small burn pot. It then electrically ignites the wood pellets, starting a small, but intense fire. From that point on, the only power used is what is needed to turn the auger, and a small fan that keeps the fire fed with oxygen, and also helps keep the electronics from overheating. The grill regulates the temperature by adjusting how fast the wood pellets are fed into the burn pot.<br />
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Choosing wood pellets can be almost as confusing as choosing a grill. Some wood pellets are simply oak or alder that is treated with "flavoring" oils. This does help keep the cost of the pellets down, but it also imparts very little wood flavor into the food, and leaves more ash residue to clean up. After all, the oil adds moisture to the pellets. Some pellets are made from 100% of the wood it claims to be, such as hickory, mesquite, cherry, or maple. This is great for imparting that authentic taste, but it also adds somewhat to the cost of the pellets, and gives the griller more to remember when grilling. Different woods burn at different rates and temperatures. I chose pellets from <a href="http://cookingpellets.com/">CookingPellets.com</a>. These folks only sell two types of wood pellets. You can choose from 100% hickory pellets, or their Perfect Mix. The Perfect Mix is a blend of hickory, cherry, hard maple, and apple. They claim it provides the perfectly balanced smoke flavor. I am certainly going to have fun testing that claim.<br />
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It was almost 8pm before we finished building the grill. If I was going to christen it that evening, I was going to have to choose something fairly quick cooking. Smoked sausages! I'll tell you a little secret. Kroger sells there Kroger Value smoked sausages in packs of sixteen for the same price the other brands are selling packs of five. Before you wrinkle your nose, consider this. They are massive compared to most other brands, and they are made for Kroger by John Morrell. Trust me, when I tell you that you won't be disappointed. We certainly weren't.<br />
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Take note of the cooking grates. They are flat stainless steel grates with slits cut out. The jury is still out on these. I have a feeling they are not going to be good for leaving grill marks on things like steaks. However, the next night's meal proved that they are ideal for grilling thin vegetables without the usual sacrificial pieces.<br />
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Friday night was special for Neva and I. Joseph left for a troop campout, and Christina and Justin (her boyfriend) were at the drag races. I was determined that we were going to have a special super. Trust me. I will be finding many reasons to grill and justify this purchase. I went to Kroger and picked up a bundle of fresh asparagus, two baking potatoes, and some southwestern stuffed chicken breasts wrapped in bacon. The chicken breasts were stuffed with roasted red sweet peppers, a very small amount of chipotles , and Monterey Jack & Cheddar cheeses.<br />
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I cooked the potatoes and stuffed chicken breasts on the grill at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes. While they were cooking, I took the asparagus and snapped off the tough ends. I then mixed 1/4 cup olive oil, the zest and juice of one lemon, and three cloves of minced garlic. I then poured the mixture over the asparagus, sprinkled with kosher salt, and tossed until all of the spears were well coated.<br />
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During the last fifteen minutes of grilling, I put the asparagus on the grill, turning it halfway through the cooking. The resulting dinner is displayed below.<br />
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I love this grill!<br />
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Next up, smoked turkey. Y'all come back soon!Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-9009514069864232272012-07-31T11:33:00.001-05:002012-07-31T11:34:21.775-05:00What do you call a heart attack smothered in clogged arteries? A good southern breakfast!Don't you just love southern cooking? If you really think about it, good southern cooking is really just a method for killing people...all while leaving a gigantic smile on their mouths. I do my best to make things healthy. I try to ensure each meal has at least one vegetable that has not been deep fried. I also try to stick with the leaner cuts of meat whenever possible. Unfortunately, no matter how healthy one tries to be, the subtle call of a southern breakfast can't be resisted. Every now and then, one must succumb to the cries of the biscuits and gravy.<br />
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One of those days happened to be this past Saturday. I had a hankering for a good southern breakfast. In fact, that hankering started the night before, so I was actually able to plan for it. In my mind I saw a plate full of biscuits smothered in sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, buttered grits, and hash brown potatoes. Didn't have any grits in the pantry. Scratch those, I soon discovered I was in the same world of hurt regarding my breakfast sausage. Wait a minute, though. I remembered a pound of ground pork in the freezer. I decided that I needed homemade sausage. Homemade pork sausage can be wonderful. The thing is you have to be very careful about how much sage you use. The tendency is to use a lot. However, it is very easy to overwhelm the rest of the flavors with the taste of sage. If you use too much sage, you will end up with sausage that has somewhat of a musty earthy aftertaste. Anyway, I mixed the seasonings into the pork on Friday night, and put the mixture in the fridge to meld the flavors overnight.<br />
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The first task on Saturday morning is biscuits. I will admit, I am just as finicky about my biscuits as I am about cornbread. It doesn't take much for me to deem a biscuit a total failure. When looking for a biscuit recipe, I am always looking for something crusty, but not too crunchy, I want a pillowy soft interior to this biscuit. A good sign of a pillowy interior is a biscuit that has risen high. In my search for the perfect biscuit, I came across a recipe for cracked black pepper biscuits from Bobby Flay. You can find the recipe at the <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/throwdown-with-bobby-flay/black-pepper-biscuits-recipe/index.html" target="_blank">Food Network</a> site. Of course, I had to make a few modification. I took off the black pepper. Not once have I ever had black pepper on the tops of my biscuits. No black pepper. Bobby calls for twelve tablespoons of unsalted butter. Personally, I am a shortening fan. Finally, Bobby wanted me to brush the biscuits with cream before placing in the oven. Cream aint cheep. Milk worked just fine. In fact, those were some downright tasty biscuits. They were definitely fluffy.<br />
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That funny shaped biscuit in the middle is Neva's special biscuit. I always have a scrap of dough left. Usually, it is just big enough for one more biscuit. Rather than rolling and cutting out, I just shape it by hand. Nobody (and I do mean nobody) is allowed to eat that biscuit but my lovely wife.<br />
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All that was left was to make the sausage gravy and other breakfast items. In the end, I ended up only fixing the gravy and some hash brown potatoes. I decided we really didn't need eggs too. I would like to think I was being health conscious. After all, while eating my scrumptious breakfast, I only felt one artery harden. That has to be an improvement. I sure hope going back for seconds and thirds don't count against me.<br />
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<br />Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-49973380702429006472012-07-06T12:07:00.000-05:002012-07-06T12:07:34.914-05:00Hello Muddah! Hello Faddah! Here I am at...I know. The title has you wondering how that can lead into a blog entry about food. It's a stretch, but bear with me. You see, I just returned from a week at summer camp. Still wondering where I'm taking this?<br />
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This year I went to summer camp with Joseph's Boy Scout troop. It was a looong trip from Memphis to Camp Rainey Mountain, just outside of Clayton, GA. As I was preparing for this trip to Georgia, I decided to reminisce a little. You see, I've been involved in scouting for quite some time. With the exception of a 12 year period before my son was old enough to join, I have been active in the Boy Scouts since I first joined as a cub in 1977. The amazing thing though, is this was going to be my first summer camp trip since 1986, the last year I served on summer camp staff.<br />
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Often, some of the greatest camp stories involve food. As I stated above, I decided to reminisce about my summer camp experiences growing up. Surely I could remember some great stories involving eating at summer camp. After all, I had attended summer camps in Alabama, New York, Italy, Greece, and Germany. So I thought...and thought...and thought. Nada! Zip! Zilch! That's what I had stored in the summer camp food memory drawer. Can you believe that? All those places, and I couldn't remember one thing about what I ate. That was strange. Oh well. I was sure there was a logical explanation.<br />
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The troop usually went to a summer camp called Skymont. From what I understand, it is a nice little summer camp nestled in the mountains between Nashville and Chattanooga. Joseph has gone there twice with the troop. I have yet to be able to go. Last year, I couldn't because of work conflicts. The first year was because the troop asks first year parents NOT to go to camp with their boys. This is an effort to help the boys (really the parents) learn some independence. Of course, I later learned from Mr. Sam that the next time I think the new parent rules apply to me, I should just come see him so he can set me straight. As punishment for such ignorance I am now troop committee chairperson.<br />
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Anyway, before my rambling strays too far from the subject at hand, I brought up Skymont because of the food. It is amazing the perception difference between boys and adults. I don't think I heard a single negative comment from any boys about the food at Skymont. The adults, well...they were a different story. The opinions ranged from the food being alright to, "You call that food?" Now, let's fast forward back to the present.<br />
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Our first food experience this year was in Bremen, GA. We stopped there to spend the night before finishing the trip to Rainey Mountain. What do you feed twenty four hungry boys late in the evening? Pizza! So, I make the call to Papa John's.<br />
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"I need ten pizza's"<br />
"Excuse me. How many, sir?"<br />
"Just ten...and six 2-liters."<br />
Remember the old Sprint commercial with the pin drop? That's what it sounded like on the other end of the line.<br />
"...and you want these delivered?"<br />
"Naw! We'll pick them up. You just tell us when." With that, I am sure I heard a chorus of angels singing, and trumpets blowing on the other end.<br />
"Oh, thank you, sir! I was afraid you wanted them right now. Let me see what kind of discounts I can give you."<br />
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Note to self: After you scare the snot out of the pizza person, relieve their fears. Suddenly you might receive many discounts.<br />
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2nd note to self: What happens when you feed boys pizza at 9pm? You have 24 wild and screaming boys at 3am, and you are left wondering how in the heck you got roped into this.<br />
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The next day it was McDonald's for breakfast and lunch. It is fun to discover which McDonald's have experience serving large groups. We walked into McDonald's in Bremen for breakfast. They were all smiles and ready to go. By the time our last boy ordered, those smiles had somehow disappeared. Poor things. Just as we were finishing up they had to deal with a tour bus of hungry teens. Something tells me there were a few employees of that restaurant rethinking their career paths.<br />
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Lunchtime was in Clayton, GA. It quickly became apparent that this McDonald's was used to huge groups of Boy Scouts dropping by for lunch every Sunday during the summer. Three troops hit at the exact same moment. I don't think it took more than thirty minutes for all three troops to order and eat, and the staff just had smirks on their faces that said, "Come on! Is that all you got!?!"<br />
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Now for the real reason for this blog. Summer camp food. Camp Rainey Mountain is big. In fact, the dining hall easily seats 800. That's big. Not big enough though. It just so happened we picked the busiest week of summer camp. There were over 930 boys in camp. Not total people. Just boys. Add another couple of hundred people to account for adult leaders. That's a lot of hungry mouths to feed every day. Was Rainey Mountain up for the challenge? We would soon find out. For Sunday dinner, we all sat down to trays of baked chicken (an entire leg and thigh quarter per person), green beans, mashed potatoes, roll, cookies, and fresh fruit.<br />
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"Mr. Jim! Mr. Jim! This food is waaay better than Skymont!" Wow! Things are looking good for this camp.<br />
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Monday morning: We are all looking forward to what breakfast brings. Especially after having such a wonderful supper the night before. After all, we need as much nourishment as we can get. We have to climb Mount Kilimanjaro...twice...just to get to our campsite. As I am headed to my table, I look down at my tray. Two slices of toast, and two slices of bacon, milk and juice. Hmm. I better pick up some fruit.<br />
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Monday lunch: Cheeseburgers and french fries! Woohoo! Okay, make that a hamburger and five french fries. The cheese disappeared many people ago. I'm sure those having triple cheese cheeseburgers are quite satisfied. Mr. Sam ain't lookin' too happy over there. Not only does he not have cheese, he doesn't have tea.<br />
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Monday supper: Bean burrito night! Bean burritos, nachos and ... no cheese. Mr. Sam is really looking ticked at this point. They ran out of nacho cheese before we got through the line. I think he made some comment about them knowing how many people they had to feed. I'm not sure though. The only thing I am sure of is we are all getting the feeling we were bamboozled on Sunday night. We aren't even close to being halfway through the week.<br />
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Note to self: When the entire camp just got done eating bean burritos try to be the last in bed...and enjoy the fresh air as long as possible. Nobody should have to bunk with five other people after a night of bean burritos. It's just not humane.<br />
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Needless to say, the week did not improve foodwise. On Tuesday, we had chili dogs. Hallelujah! We made it through the line and there was still cheese left. Mr. Sam reached for the cheese, hesitated, then pulled back. "I'm not eating any cheese. I'm rebelling!" I'm not quite sure Mr. Sam's rebellion was really noticed by the camp, but it brought a smile to his face. In my book, that gets put down as a success.<br />
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By the end of the week, it was no longer "this food is way better than Skymont!" Now it was, "Mr. Jim! Mr. Jim! Can we pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze go to Skymont next year. At least we get seconds there!"<br />
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I know why I can't remember anything about my summer camp food experiences. Often, when a person is traumatized, their mind will block all memories of the event, as a survival mechanism. That must be the reason. Hopefully, that survival mechanism will kick in for these boys soon.<br />
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<i>(Please don't take this blog entry too seriously. While there were definitely some issues with portion sizes and running out of food, the camp did an admirable job of trying to cope with over 1,000 mouths to feed. Despite the food issues, I think every boy will tell you that the Camp Rainey Mountain staff was the best staff...EVER! I have never met a group of people more dedicated to making sure the boys and their leaders have a positive camp experience, and that is including summer camp staffs I served on. Kudos to the CRM staff.)</i>Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-77002453114970309892012-06-11T12:38:00.002-05:002012-06-12T14:30:31.589-05:00Soup up your weight loss planSo...the other day, I was at the doctor. It was my six month checkup. While I did get a license from the doctor to live another six months, one thing became abundantly clear when I stepped on the scales. My efforts to prepare for my role as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Santa Claus were peaking way too early. I definitely needed to slow down on "getting into shape". For those of you who might still be wondering what I am talking about, my "bowl full of jelly" was quickly turning into a 55 gallon drum.<br />
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<a href="http://www.weightwatchers.com/index.aspx" target="_blank">Weight Watchers</a> and I have a relationship that goes back quite a while. Whenever they get a little tight on money, they call me up and say, "Hey, Jim! Why don't you come join us...again!" Well, as much as I admire WW (It really is one of the best ways to lose weight in a healthy manner) I am just having a very hard time getting excited about it. I know that my biggest problem is portion control. Don't get me wrong. I often put the correct portion on my plate. The problem is that the same portion gets put on my second and third plates as well. I am a fast eater. I always have been. The problem with being a fast eater is that one eats way too much before the stomach is able to send the "satisfied" signal to the brain. I like to blame it on the public school system. It seems that the further I went in school, the shorter my lunch period got. After nineteen years of wolfing lunch down, it becomes a habit that is very hard to break. I don't know if that is really the cause of my speed eating, but it does sound like a good excuse. Doesn't it?<br />
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This past week two things happened that restarted my weight loss efforts (hopefully, successfully). First, Debbie (my lifetime weight loss partner) brought in a <a href="http://www.cookinglight.com/" target="_blank">Cooking Light</a> magazine that was chock full of some darn good looking recipes. The second thing was a blog posting I read where the blogger asked his friend how he was successful with his weight loss. The answer was "soup". This person started each meal with a bowl of some type of soup...piping hot. By getting the soup piping hot, he was forced to eat it slowly, allowing his stomach time to fill with water, and send the satisfied signal to the stomach. Thus, he would feel full before he had a chance to eat too much of the entree. Made sense to me. I decided to try some of the Cooking Light recipes, and eat soup first.<br />
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I carefully picked out recipes that would be appealing to the whole family. The problem was finding a hot soup that would be appealing, and not be loaded with fat. The other problem with soup, is finding a good hot soup recipe that goes well with summer. I put my thinking cap on. What is one of my favorite soups? I love to get a bowl of wonton soup at the Chinese buffet. It is quite simply a very mild broth with boiled wonton dumplings. I was afraid that might not be too filling, so I tried to think of something that had a little more substance. The end result was Chinese cabbage soup. After some searching, I found a good recipe that I modified considerably, until I had the following.<br />
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<b>Chinese Cabbage Soup</b><br />
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<i>Ingredients:</i><br />
1 Head Chinese Cabbage Chopped (see below for further info.)<br />
1/2 diced onion<br />
1lb ground meat (pork or chicken or turkey)<br />
5 cups chicken broth<br />
5 cups water<br />
2 tsp sesame oil<br />
2 Tbsp lite soy sauce<br />
2 Tbsp rice wine vinegar<br />
1 tsp white pepper<br />
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Brown ground meet in stock pot. Drain any excess fat. Saute onions until translucent. Add rice wine vinegar. Add water and chicken broth, and bring to a boil. Add chopped cabbage to the pot, and simmer just until soft (about 3-4 minutes). Add soy sauce, sesame oil, and white pepper, stir well and serve.<br />
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Here's a little lesson on Chinese cabbage. There are two different plants often referred to as Chinese cabbage. One is bok choy. The other is napa cabbage. For this recipe, use the napa cabbage. Pay attention to the picture below, as the grocery store will often mix the two up.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA4pwbA8Enxl_pbxBKi-vVgr5C4BMsD8cdop9iB_0byCvxpvwNOkLW8S8ZJ1uB0-3_s4I-MkT1HyViecERCGqIZYxOxlkqIkgwfSz6hJnEc7yKevmt1AQQlDGHUhNMflgORNwiewwSlg/s1600/Napa-Cabbage-Images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA4pwbA8Enxl_pbxBKi-vVgr5C4BMsD8cdop9iB_0byCvxpvwNOkLW8S8ZJ1uB0-3_s4I-MkT1HyViecERCGqIZYxOxlkqIkgwfSz6hJnEc7yKevmt1AQQlDGHUhNMflgORNwiewwSlg/s320/Napa-Cabbage-Images.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Napa Cabbage</td></tr>
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I added a couple more items to my cabbage soup, just to bulk it up more, and add some color. I just happened to come across some dried red bell peppers and carrots (That's a whole different story). I added about half a cup of each to the soup when I initially allowed it to start coming to a boil. The result ended up being a soup that was very light, but definitely filling.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpoBwBGErP0uWbaIIpN36u4C66YlLDkoJbrFJO7qzjEJfVCOmhGwmRBgCrwWVXebgVzuuErv442AmOxk9F2dfqIhAKjn21PLX6GoKoKNCN_zbsx5tOn6pO__ajEHwnPDeorbH2sQU4g8/s1600/IMG_1681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpoBwBGErP0uWbaIIpN36u4C66YlLDkoJbrFJO7qzjEJfVCOmhGwmRBgCrwWVXebgVzuuErv442AmOxk9F2dfqIhAKjn21PLX6GoKoKNCN_zbsx5tOn6pO__ajEHwnPDeorbH2sQU4g8/s320/IMG_1681.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese Cabbage Soup</td></tr>
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I decided to mix continents for the meal. The entree came from Italy, by way of Cooking Light. We had <a href="http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/shrimp-florentine-pasta-50400000121385/" target="_blank">Shrimp Pasta Florentine</a>. I don't know the exact legalities of posting recipes from publications, so I won't post it here. However, just click on the name of the dish above, and you will go to the website.<br />
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That looks good. Doesn't it? I didn't take the picture. That is taken from the Cooking Light website. My dish didn't come out quite that pretty, but it was close. About the only change I made was using Angel Hair pasta instead of fettuccine. I only went that route because I like to get the pasta that tastes like regular, but has added fiber. The particular brand I was looking at did not have fettuccine.<br />
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So. I suppose you're wondering how things went. I can say that both recipes were resounding successes on the taste size. As for the hot soup helping to control my appetite, well........<br />
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It worked. I wasn't sure I could even down my one portion of shrimp and pasta. Of course, I did. I was NOT going to let that shrimp go to waste, unless it was my own!<br />
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I'll keep you informed if this souped up weight loss plan works.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-36338470734053511882012-06-04T16:05:00.001-05:002012-06-12T14:18:16.096-05:00So, What goes well with pork loin...that I actually have?<div style="color: #cc0000; text-align: center;">
<b>Apples!</b></div>
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Let me start off by apologizing for the lame title for this post. I was so proud of the meal I cooked Saturday, that I knew I wanted to blog about it. Unfortunately, in the ensuing days, I was not able to come up with a title for this blogpost that I really fancied. So! Since you got this far, you obviously got past the title. Thanks for not holding it against me, and refusing to read my ramblings.<br />
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Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I got up Saturday morning. (I know. that in itself is pretty amazing.) I was facing another four hour shift of grilling hot dogs, hamburgers, and smoked sausages for the Boy Scouts. (I think I now qualify as an expert on those items.) I also knew that there was only a minutely slim possibility that someone else in my family was going to start supper that evening. Therefore, I had to do one of those scary things, and plan ahead. I looked in the freezer, to see what could be put in the slow cooker. Behold! I still had a 2.5lb pork loin just waiting to be cooked. I nuked it in the microwave (on defrost). After all, any good chef would take all possible opportunities to add gamma rays, nuclear radiation, and all that other stuff to their food. That's what gives our dishes that special "glow". Remember that smoked salt I wrote about in another blog. Well, I sprinkled that and some black pepper on the loin and seared it in a skillet until all sides were nicely crisped.<br />
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Woohoo! Now I had a partially cooked lump of meat. That's really going to bowl the family over. What to do? What to do? Then my little eye spied a bag with some apples in it. It just so happened that this bag had one of those proverbial rotten apples getting ready to spoil the whole bushel (well...the other five). I took out Mr. Rotten and gave him the heave ho. Then I used the apple corer/slicer on the others. I did not peel the apple. People in my family quickly learn to enjoy fruit and vegetable skins. I hate peeling, unless the skin is just inedible. I then found some baby carrots, and craisins. Craisins are the neatest things. They're just like raisins, but made out of cranberries. The neat thing is they don't go bad...ever....never! That's right, folks, we actually have a food product that could potentially outlast the cockroach population of the world...without the use of preservatives. I mixed all that together with some granulated sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and just a little ground sage. I then put all that stuff on top of the pork loin. Heck! Even raw, this dish was starting to look good.<br />
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Fast forward about eight hours. Now we have a slow cooker full of pure heaven.<br />
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Oooo, Doggie! supper was gonna be good tonight. There was a problem though. With all that sugar, I still didn't have enough starch! (Calm down! I'm just kidding!) I had some potatoes that were starting to sprout some little vinelets (baby vines, for those of you who don't like me making words up). I decided we needed to have some Potatoes Anna to go with our pork roast.<br />
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Potatoes Anna is a fancy sounding name for a classic French peasant dish. It is quite literally just sliced potatoes, salt, pepper, and butter. Don't let that whole peasant dish thing disappoint you. That just means it is the food of the people. Go back to the Middle Ages and you basically had only two classes, aristocracy and peasants. Trust me, you and I would have been in the peasant class, and quite proud of it. They had better food. The peasants were the workers, and those cooking, knew they had to make the food hearty and tasty to provide the nutrition to keep the workers healthy. The other good thing about peasant food was that it was much less likely to contain hemlock or arsenic. Those aristocrats had a nasty habit of trying to kill each other off.<br />
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Anyway, Potatoes Anna is just good plain peasant food...and one of the tastiest ways to cook potatoes. It really is quite simple to fix. You basically slice six to eight potatoes as thinly as you can. Once again, they are supposed to be peeled. Once again, I didn't peel them. I find the best cooking dish for these is a good cast iron skillet. Melt a stick of butter. Brush the inside of the skillet with some of the butter, then cover the bottom with a layer of potato slices. Brush that layer with butter, then sprinkle with salt (Use kosher, if you have it. It provides little bursts of flavor you can't get with table salt.) and pepper. Lay down another layer of potatoes and repeat with the butter, salt and pepper. Continue to do this with the rest of the potatoes. If you have any butter left over, drizzle it over the top of everything. You will end up with something like the dish pictured below.<br />
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Place some foil over the pan, and put it on a med/hi burner. Cook until you hear sizzling. Continue cooking for about five minutes. You will then transfer the dish to a 425 degree oven and bake for 20 - 25 minutes. Pull the foil off and press the potatoes down with a spatula. Bake uncovered for an additional 25 minutes. You should end up with something like this.<br />
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Crispy on the outside. Soft and buttery on the inside. You are supposed to then place a plate over the top and flip, so you can see the nice golden brown bottom. I had just spent four hours flipping burgers, and another two hours cooking supper. (I know! So much for saving time by planning ahead. I also baked a loaf of bread) I was not about to expend my last bit of energy, trying to flip a frickin' twelve inch cast iron skillet. The family would just have to imagine how golden brown it was on the bottom.<br />
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Needless to say. We ate very well that night. There wasn't a shred of pork left, and every belly was full. It was worth the effort, but the next day, I let the funny lady at China Royal cook for me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Christina. I am NOT wearing a frilly pink sweater!</td></tr>
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<br />Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-46157357078700745352012-05-17T13:48:00.000-05:002012-06-12T14:31:07.053-05:00Eat Pizza and Promote Peace!It is my firm belief that if God had given the Israelites pizza every day while they were wandering around for forty years (There's a good argument for GPS, if there ever was one), they would not have rebelled quite so often. After all, what one food item can easily present members of all food groups in a delicious, easy to hold form factor? Perhaps, if Moses had come down from the mountain top with some pizzas to feast on whilst reading the stone tablets, God's chosen people would have taken the time to actually comprehend the message he was delivering. I bet the whole Israeli/Palestinian conflict could be ended tomorrow, if the leaders would just sit down and hold a "Pizza Summit".<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This pepperoni is divine! You can have Gaza.</td></tr>
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Now! One might get the impression that I am ever so slightly partial to the culinary delight that is Pizza. I'm not really sure what would ever give one that impression, but he/she would be...<br />
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What is there not to love about hot gooey cheese, tomato sauce and a crunchy crust. Even the act of cooking pizza is bliss itself. Would you consider visions of a hot bubbly meatloaf sitting in the oven romantic? How about a pot of brussels sprouts boiling on the stove top? That certainly gets the emotions going. However, they are NOT the emotions of romance and desire. But, then you imagine a pizza baking in a wood fired oven...<br />
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If that doesn't get you going, you are one cold hearted person!<br />
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Let's get something straight right now. Everyone thinks of pizza as Italian. What we eat over here, in the great US of A, is NOT Italian. The pizza we all grew up with is American through and through. I've been to Italy. I've had Italian pizza. I'm sure it tastes wonderful...to Italians. Yes, you can get a pepperoni pizza in Italy. But, that is really just an Italian selling you American pizza. That's the beauty of pizza, though. No matter where you go, you will probably find pizza. In each place, it will be different. Pizza is such a universal dish, yet completely customizable to the culture. The closest most of us will come to a true Italian pizza is a Pizza Margherita. This is pizza in one of it's simplest, yet most delicious forms. Tomato sauce, crust, mozzarella cheese, and fresh basil.<br />
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Everybody has their favorite local pizza joint. Pizza is one of those dishes that stirs up the passions. Everyone thinks they know where the best pizza is made, and all of you non-believers can just shut up, and go to...I think you get the picture. I'm like everyone else. I have my favorites too. None of those favorites include the three national pizza chains. Don't get me wrong. They aren't bad, just not great.<br />
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When I am looking for a place to go and relax with friends, while enjoying some of the best pizza, the family and I head over to <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pietro-Pizza-Subs/85545962450" target="_blank">Pietro Pizza and Subs</a>. This place is run by a mother/daughter duo, two of the nicest people you will ever meet. Pictured below, is one of our favorite pizzas from Pietro...the Meatza pizza!<br />
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Pietro uses a fairly thin crust that puffs up nice and plump around the edges. It is not exactly like, but very similar to, a New York style pizza. If we are feeling especially sinful, we will order a stuffed Meatza. That sucker is a Meatza pizza with an additional crust put on top. that Top crust is covered in butter(I think), Parmesan cheese, and Italian seasonings. Very good, and very messy. If you are in the mood for something good, but not necessarily pizza, I can certainly recommend the strombili (definitely large enough for two people), or the Italian salad. If there is one complaint I have, it is that Pietro uses canned mushrooms on the pizzas and salads. Fresh would be much nicer, especially on the salads. However, if mushrooms are the only problem, I'll just shut up and keep chompin'.<br />
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A coworker of mine recently introduced me to my second favorite source for pizza. That would be <a href="http://www.papamurphys.com/Home" target="_blank">Papa Murphy's</a>. Papa Murphy's is the fifth largest pizza chain in the country, with over 1200 stores in 37 states. The interesting thing about Papa Murphy's is that you don't eat there. In fact, our local store has just one little bench. They don't even cook the pizzas for you. They simply build them, and hand them over...with instructions. While they may not cook their pizza's, they certainly do build some of the best pizzas you will ever bake. Do you want a pizza that tastes better than delivery? Go to Papa Murphy's. Don't let those <a href="http://www.digiorno.com/" target="_blank">DiGiorno</a> people fool you. They make frozen pizza. It may be glorified frozen pizza, but it is still frozen pizza. I have yet to buy one that "tastes like delivery". Papa Murphy's is more expensive than frozen pizza, but definitely comparable to, if not better than, the national chains in price.<br />
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Last night, I went to Papa Murphy's. I got a Parmesan Chicken deLite, and a Stuffed Meat pizza. After tax, it was $26.50. Considering how big the pizzas were (The Parmesan Chicken was 14" and the Stuffed Meats was 16"), it was a very reasonable price. Straight out of the store, these pizzas had me salivating.<br />
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The Parmesan Chicken deLite had a thin crust, fresh tomatoes, chicken, and spinach, covered with mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses. The Stuffed meats had pepperoni, ham, bacon, and sausage on the inside with mozzarella cheese. Then they topped the top crust with beef and a cheese blend. After they wrapped the pizzas in plastic wrap ( with their own convenient paper baking trays) I headed down to the local Home Depot and rented a giant winch to lift those bad boys up, and get them in the car. (Ok, I made the last part up.) I called home, and told my indentured servant (also referred to as a daughter) to put the oven on 425. When I arrived home, both pizzas went in the oven, and 40 minute later, we were eating the type of food that has the power to resolve any conflict.<br />
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The crust on the deLite was crunchy on the outside, but soft enough underneath to fold the pizza. The crust on the Stuffed Meat...let's just say that I had to get a ladder to see over the edge of that thing.<br />
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So! Where's your favorite place to eat pizza? I bet it's not as good as mine. What are your favorite toppings? Have I made you hungry yet? Go ahead. You know you want some. Go pick up a pizza or two, and help promote world peace.<br />
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<br />Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-85060138265722957442012-04-23T13:09:00.001-05:002012-06-12T14:31:41.145-05:00Name That DishSo...<br />
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I was only home from a weekend of camping for a few hours, and already the natives were restless. "What's for supper!?!" This time the native's included a certain young lady's boyfriend. Into the kitchen I go. What will I feed my poor, helpless, little chicks? Hot dogs with mac & cheese? No. Joseph would love it, but no. Should I cook some chicken and have salads? No. Too healthy! Then it hit me. I should introduce Justin (that's the boyfriend) to Jimmy's Test Kitchen. You see, anyone who stays in my house long enough (and he has) get's to become a participant in my test kitchen...whether they want to or not. So, let the testing begin.<br />
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Of course, the first step when creating a dish in Jimmy's is to figure out what you have available. The wife says we have to do something with the pack of smoked sausages in the fridge. That certainly made meat selection easy. Then I looked to my left and spotted a bag of potatoes. Things are looking up. Of course I can't just simply do skillet fried potatoes and smoked sausage. That would be too common. Jimmy's Test Kitchen does not do "common". Anyway, I sliced the smoked sausage (ten sausages, if you must know), put a little olive oil in the skillet, pulled out the can of Tony Chachere's, and sprinkled it all over. A few minutes later, I had these tasty little morsels.<br />
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Next, I took eight potatoes and diced them. I followed this by mincing two cloves of fresh garlic. I tossed half a stick of butter in the oil and yumminess left over in the skillet from sauteing the sausages, and then tossed in the garlic. After sauteing a bit, I added the potatoes, lightly sprinkled with kosher salt, then heavily coated with Tony C's.<br />
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I let that cook for about 15 minutes on med-high, turning occasionally. This got the potatoes just to the point they were starting to soften. Then I tossed in a can of cream of chicken soup, a can of drained black beans, one and a half cans of water, and two tablespoons of ham base. I put the lid on the skillet, and allowed to cook for another ten minutes, stirring occasionally.<br />
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Once the dish was finished cooking, I stirred in half a cup of sour cream, and topped with one cups of shredded cheese (I used a fiesta blend, but any good melting cheese would work). Shazam! Dinner is served.<br />
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I am happy to report that minutes later, all but a cup of the molten lava pictured above had disappeared. The problem is that here I am, a day later, and I still don't know what to call it. Perhaps some of my readers can help. Come on, folks. <b><i>Name that dish!</i></b>Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-66421360926302686562012-04-01T00:17:00.000-05:002012-06-12T14:32:21.495-05:00Memphis in May? Nah! It's March, and the Heat is On!Here's the question. What do you do when it is a beautiful March day that is already promising to be sunny and in the mid eighties? Firstly, you sit there and wonder why it is sunny and in the eighties in March. Then you shrug your shoulders, pull a couple large sources of protein out, and slap them on the barbie. Meet Tom & Porky.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for a day at the spa!</td></tr>
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Ok! I know you can't just instantly pull out a couple of large chunks of protein like these. Both of these were taking up precious space in my fridge for days. Let's just call it poetic license and move on, shall we. I have been looking forward to weather like this since the last time I used this grill. That would be November of last year. I usually smoke a turkey for Thanksgiving as my official last act with the large grill. Today was going to be an all day treat, though. I throw these babies on the grill about 9am, and have turkey for lunch and pulled pork for supper. It was certainly going to be a wonderful day.<br />
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You might be wondering how I prepared these beauties before putting them on the grill. (I know you're probably not wondering that, but humor me. I don't know why you always feel you have to be so difficult!) I'm a briner. No. I didn't say I was a shriner. I said, "briner". I like to soak big pieces of meat in a brine solution overnight before cooking low and slow. Brine can be as simple as salt and water, or you can add other things to it for flavoring. Brining is a great way to add moisture to a large piece of meat. Whatever flavorings you add to your brining solution will lightly permeate throughout the meat. My brine consisted of salt, water, sugar, apple juice, bay leaves, thyme, and garlic. I put it all in a stock pot, and heated long enough to get the salt and sugar dissolved. Then I put the boston butt and turkey each in a brining bag, and poured half the brine into each bag. Finally, into the fridge they go for the night. The key is that the piece of meat MUST be completely submerged in the brine. The cool thing is that overnight, nature works it's magic and uses the brine to add the maximum amount of moisture each piece of meat can hold, without making the meat taste salty at all.<br />
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Most true BBQers would probably gasp at the idea of me brining a boston butt. Most people would put a layer of mustard or oil on the meat, then completely cover in a dry rub, wrap it in plastic wrap, and refrigerate overnight. However, I find that brining penetrates the meat and adds flavor much better than the dry rub method. Besides, it really is no different that injecting with liquid just before cooking, which is how most of the pros do it. I do use mustard and dry rub, but only just before smoking begins. You might notice some dark areas under the skin of the turkey. I can't be for sure, since the turkey was already frozen when purchased, but I don't think it was in a bar brawl just before packaging. The darkness is from applying dry rub between the skin and the breast meat. I don't normally do this, but since I had a large batch of rub made, I figured, "Why not?"<br />
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About three hours into the smoking, and things were looking really good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGQlnN1trJEx3YtZA6dxuA9X_vHJqOiD5XEn40-jDiD-HnshAADeBa2gWpudGptzKBILUpUjFMYJNBfagGEwSrg-ocgD8CgkaxcygSIH2u7o6uEGiOdLpRFKgDyjazcwKN6GIFL67CDY/s1600/IMGP6137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGQlnN1trJEx3YtZA6dxuA9X_vHJqOiD5XEn40-jDiD-HnshAADeBa2gWpudGptzKBILUpUjFMYJNBfagGEwSrg-ocgD8CgkaxcygSIH2u7o6uEGiOdLpRFKgDyjazcwKN6GIFL67CDY/s320/IMGP6137.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG54WeirySY1634Oi9gsF8bUBNO0pMpg-3g07j2F8z4GLYJjhmvo34CGf6clFoPPNXyD-ZcGroNyNMHL-jZJiehp0lQmaWZp3snPmIJJL8tgFcYvEqXBn6-WgV2QcXsFdjKcOxNNFwT30/s1600/IMGP6138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG54WeirySY1634Oi9gsF8bUBNO0pMpg-3g07j2F8z4GLYJjhmvo34CGf6clFoPPNXyD-ZcGroNyNMHL-jZJiehp0lQmaWZp3snPmIJJL8tgFcYvEqXBn6-WgV2QcXsFdjKcOxNNFwT30/s320/IMGP6138.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The tears in the turkey skin are due to me loosening it up to put the rub between it and the breast meat. I'm not really worried about it. We won't be eating the skin on this turkey. (By we, I do not include my son Joseph. He actually enjoys eating the skin) When doing a smoked turkey like this, the skin will usually have such an intense smokey flavor, that it borders on acrid. However, it is a worthy sacrifice for the juicy meat being protected inside.<br />
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There is probably some purist out there somewhere reading this blog, and preparing to add a comment about the fact I have the temperature probe in the wrong spot. All the cookbooks talk about putting a meat thermometer in the thickest part of the thigh. Do you know what? Every time I do that, I end up with a turkey with a finished thigh, and a pink breast. Therefore, I put the probe in the breast. When it says it has reached the proper temperature, put the probe in the thickest part of the thigh for verification. Sometimes, those purists just need to get a life.<br />
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Anyway, another hour later, and my thermometer is beeping. Tom is cooked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj25zpbtbt2mS9r204iJZ4X6mrqOaU-FsO__e_cFyP37DIEmirAmcoP3O9VP2Gf96eAFIkl3wRmasllRZd-WSqMeumB3oYafBH6jrjDiWy-Gg6G62oMZAAum4h1pbYgTRbBnmx8L1SAM/s1600/IMGP6140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj25zpbtbt2mS9r204iJZ4X6mrqOaU-FsO__e_cFyP37DIEmirAmcoP3O9VP2Gf96eAFIkl3wRmasllRZd-WSqMeumB3oYafBH6jrjDiWy-Gg6G62oMZAAum4h1pbYgTRbBnmx8L1SAM/s320/IMGP6140.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the deep red coloring smoking gives the skin</td></tr>
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It was hot smoked turkey sandwiches for lunch. Then I had to pull out every weapon in my arsenal to ensure some turkey was left for another meal. Otherwise, Joseph would be going to town on that sucker.<b><br />
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<b>Mystery Question</b><br />
Here is a question I posted on Facebook. What is pictured below?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sh_8SXyH0jUlXDqRPgH9vzNrSUNrnw7RdAZd7SyiLDZYFsIu0UPUUD7y43idNpOwahUp2z_CI3nd2R2EgnGjO_0ST8dd2RnSBWuZDMxVHV5CJ-OqHgVNyLQFkhjRL-8m2LcAYFSc7GQ/s1600/IMGP6141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sh_8SXyH0jUlXDqRPgH9vzNrSUNrnw7RdAZd7SyiLDZYFsIu0UPUUD7y43idNpOwahUp2z_CI3nd2R2EgnGjO_0ST8dd2RnSBWuZDMxVHV5CJ-OqHgVNyLQFkhjRL-8m2LcAYFSc7GQ/s320/IMGP6141.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There were several neat guesses, but none correct. Are you ready for the answer? Are you sure you can handle the truth? It is smoked salt. The next time you decide to smoke something on the grill, fill a foil tray with kosher salt and set it on the grill as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNjs6qqBl0z470TcEXKsmxmjyGnM6jJjOMzQJMTlwOik8VO8sFkclwOKR-71yhxdUPaGYPvMk2ziJ7VvUPc5WU6d_hdAOPllGWamN-if4sMZ2tgUK7r4KFjYFuhYLWgtT1_RRpoRAk6U/s1600/IMGP6136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNjs6qqBl0z470TcEXKsmxmjyGnM6jJjOMzQJMTlwOik8VO8sFkclwOKR-71yhxdUPaGYPvMk2ziJ7VvUPc5WU6d_hdAOPllGWamN-if4sMZ2tgUK7r4KFjYFuhYLWgtT1_RRpoRAk6U/s320/IMGP6136.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's like having your own homemade liquid smoke...without the liquid. The smoke will permeate the salt, adding it's flavoring to it. You will need to stir the salt every half hour or so to make sure the smoke hits every piece. If you want to add a slightly smoked flavor to your favorite dish, just add a pinch or two of this salt. It really is like using liquid smoke, but a whole lot cheaper. This works great with hickory. Today I used apple. I love to smoke using hickory, when I am smoking a turkey. However, when I smoke a boston butt, I prefer a fruit wood, such as apple. It imparts a slightly sweeter, less intense flavor to the meat. the fact it is less intense is important, since the boston butt will be on the grill considerably longer<br />
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Another five hours later and I was ready to pull the last piece of meat off of the grill. Why does it take so long? Pork is ready to eat at 160 degrees. However, it will not be easy to pull for "pulled pork". For this to happen, the connective tissues and collagen have to break down. This doesn't begin to happen until about 170 degrees, and is completed when the butt is between 190 and 200 degrees. Don't worry. A boston butt has fat marbling all through it. It can handle cooking that slowly, and still be moist. It is important that you only do this with a boston butt, or picnic shoulder. A pork loin is way to lean, and needs to be taken off at the 160 degree point.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDKHMsnm27yvwyJm5V4bgm3gsY5ZfXe5cbJWCQfII6AMZ_96EhV1lprWz2qw_oZgugUK9LuCMEN7ulpv6mTKcWQj1xS6GXopkmiNoC5UMw1FXy_XKq-8fgBYlw-vS4tDJMJV7r-Lrzbc/s1600/IMGP6145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDKHMsnm27yvwyJm5V4bgm3gsY5ZfXe5cbJWCQfII6AMZ_96EhV1lprWz2qw_oZgugUK9LuCMEN7ulpv6mTKcWQj1xS6GXopkmiNoC5UMw1FXy_XKq-8fgBYlw-vS4tDJMJV7r-Lrzbc/s320/IMGP6145.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The lovely bark you see is the result of the rub and basting with apple juice every hour. I also added another layer of dry rub about two hours before finishing. This made for an extra thick crust bark. When pulling or chopping the pork, do NOT through away the bark. When you pull the pork, the pieces of the bark create little bursts of intense flavor while eating the pork.Trust me on this one. Do NOT through that bark away!<br />
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After letting the meat rest for half an hour, the final product looks like this.<br />
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Boy howdy! That was good. I am <i>soooooo</i> glad BBQ season is here!Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-86678665772341658582012-03-17T19:52:00.001-05:002012-03-18T09:40:06.155-05:00Happy St. Patrick's Day! Have You Had Your Cabbage Today?Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. I hope God has smiled down on you this day, and perhaps sprinkled you with just a little luck o' the Irish. I love St. Patrick's Day, and have been enamored with all things Irish for many years. Many of you (I use the term "many" very loosely.) will remember a post made a few weeks ago about by dreams to open an Irish-Mexican Pub. Just in case you forgot, <a href="http://thegreatfoodjunkie.blogspot.com/2012/03/greatings-from-cancun-ireland-huh.html" target="_blank">here is a link to that post</a>. Please hurry back.<br />
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Ok, now that you are done with that little refresher, we can continue. As I was saying, I love St. Patrick's Day, and was determined to cook an authentic Irish meal that definitely included cabbage. I am sure the vast majority of readers' minds are going to corned beef and cabbage. There are two problems with that thought. The first is that corned beef is not Irish. The Irish do not cook corned beef in Ireland, and they certainly don't eat it with corned beef. It is my understanding that in Ireland, cabbage is cooked with bacon. However, it was impossible to get Irish style bacon in the US, so the early immigrants substituted with the next best thing they could find...corned beef. Thus the tradition of corned beef and cabbage began in the US.<br />
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The second, and decidedly more important, problem with corned beef is that my wife does not like corned beef. Trust me. No luck o' the Irish can save me from the ire of a red-headed wife. Therefore, corned beef was not to be on the menu this year. What to do?<br />
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During my travels across the vast internet I came across a very neat website called the <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/" target="_blank">Irish American Mom</a>. If you have even the remotest affinity with things Irish, you must visit this site. WAIT!!!! You must visit the site...but later, please. While visiting the site I saw instructions for <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/2012/03/05/how-to-cook-cabbage-irish-style/" target="_blank">cooking cabbage Irish style</a>. Perfect! It involves boiling with some good fatty bacon. Even more perfect! The cabbage question had been solved. Now, what to have with cabbage. I figured if this Irish-American mom knew how to cook cabbage Irish style, she could certainly come up with something for me to have with my cabbage. It took just a wee bit of scrolling down the page and, BINGO! There was a link to something called <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/2011/11/04/irish-guinness-beef-stew-crockpot-recipe/" target="_blank">Irish Guinness Beef Stew</a>. You simply can't go wrong with a hearty beef stew. What person can resist a picture like this?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6jVKR-N7FFYgFeCNX-1owxYVnrFk492JrsDlg7UX8eJrVIuSp8Suis_5UGaVV0zIZwsTBWLzBVP4CPxucOvTm7IowqIdaK7ST4asDCFa9XZ1v5SiiGtOuDKHz67ulTUH3NpAC2pG9G0/s1600/DSCF55801-1024x732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6jVKR-N7FFYgFeCNX-1owxYVnrFk492JrsDlg7UX8eJrVIuSp8Suis_5UGaVV0zIZwsTBWLzBVP4CPxucOvTm7IowqIdaK7ST4asDCFa9XZ1v5SiiGtOuDKHz67ulTUH3NpAC2pG9G0/s320/DSCF55801-1024x732.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This woman definitely knows how to use a camera to make people hungry!</td></tr>
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</div>Admittedly, it seemed like a rather heavy dish to be cooking when the temperature is already in the eighties. However, the calendar says it is still officially winter for a few days, so we are having beef stew, by gosh. Upon first inspection, this recipe did not seem all that different from any standard beef stew. However, the very name of the recipe slaps you in the face with one major difference. Guinness. No drink says "Ireland" quite like Guinness. This recipe called for a bottle of Guinness Stout. A stout is a good dark beer that usually has a particularly creamy head on it that will grow like "The Blob" if you pour it too quickly. In all honesty, I had never had a stout before finding this recipe. There was no way I could use it in a recipe without trying it first. Unfortunately, none of the stores immediately close to me sell Guinness Stout in a single bottle. I was definitely not going to buy a six pack of something I could potentially detest. That's when Kathy comes to my rescue. Kathy is a co-worker who has also been a wonderful friend to my family for close to twenty years. She also happens to have a fondness for beer. Stop thinking those thoughts! I am not implying she is a lush. Far from it. However, she does enjoy a good beer, kinda like a wine taster enjoys a good wine. Anyway, she was kind enough to bring me two different stouts to try. Neither was Irish, but this should be a good enough taste test. Stout proved to be the perfect accompaniment to a Berry-Cherry pie.<br />
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Before you begin to wonder if this blog is about food or alcohol, let me get on with the story. The other surprising difference between this stew recipe and the standards is dark chocolate. I know that may sound strange, but it is actually used quite a bit...in Mexican cooking. The idea behind it's use in this recipe is that a small amount of dark chocolate will cut the bitterness of the Guinness stout.<br />
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As usual, I don't always follow rules when cooking. I did with the cabbage, but I just couldn't with the stew. I promise I didn't change it too much. Also, you need to remember that in one of my earliest posts I encouraged the idea of taking a recipe and changing it to make it your own. My change was minor, and had more to do with money than anything else. I still was not ready to buy an entire six pack of Guinness. I still had one stout left from the Kathy taste test. This one just happened to be a Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Cool! I could kill two birds with one stone. My stout already has chocolate in it.<br />
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However, this just proved to find me facing a new dilemma. This was a "moral" dilemma. I am using an American stout. Can I really call this an Irish stew? I run to the dining room and grab my bottle of Jameson. I pour 1/4 cup of this fine Irish Whiskey into my stew. Problem solved.<br />
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This stew has to simmer for twelve hours in a slow cooker. I started it just before going to bed, and woke up to a wonderful aroma on St. Patrick's Day. By noon, the perfect St. Patrick's Day meal was ready. With the first bite, I knew I was going to be blessed with more than just a touch of the luck o' the Irish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SD1mNPbuY45-2WQg9umvBDzhJano3jKHMLwK-PDiJdKyk4UyGBxj_otpt-xlZCdJbtBgE181Q205Srj1WQbgSYxKBLA8CLKHyhZJmxx_XiXua0LsNS7kW93daOwtXQ9pb6jitI0jc40/s1600/Stew2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SD1mNPbuY45-2WQg9umvBDzhJano3jKHMLwK-PDiJdKyk4UyGBxj_otpt-xlZCdJbtBgE181Q205Srj1WQbgSYxKBLA8CLKHyhZJmxx_XiXua0LsNS7kW93daOwtXQ9pb6jitI0jc40/s320/Stew2012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See all of that juice? That's what the roll is for. Yummy!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>What lessons did I learn from this meal? That stew is awesome! I certainly feel that a double chocolate stout is a perfect substitution for a regular Guinness stout and some dark chocolate. Unless you just have to have something "Irish" in the stew, forget the Jameson. It certainly did not ruin anything. However, I really can't say it helped anything either...other than my conscience.<br />
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We really enjoyed the cabbage. I just happen to have an entire family of cabbage lovers. However, I didn't taste as much of a bacon flavor as I was expecting. I guess, if I know bacon is in a recipe, I want to be able to taste it. While the cabbage was great, I really could not detect the bacon. No problem. I think I will make "Southern Irish Cabbage." That just means I am going to be using a good slab of hog jowl bacon. If anything can impart a bacon flavor, hog jowl can.<br />
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Anyway, I would like to thank <a href="http://www.irishamericanmom.com/" target="_blank">Irish American Mom</a> for making this St. Patrick's Day a huge success. One more thing added to the fun of the day. The previous night, I was working on my genealogy on the laptop. Suddenly, it popped up. I almost missed it, but there it was. My great great grandmother, was born in Ireland in 1833. Now, that makes for a happy St. Patrick's Day!Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-55821041937017715082012-03-10T23:21:00.005-06:002012-03-12T16:02:32.414-05:00Look, Ma! No Microwave!Does anyone have a cow for sale? Apparently, it has gotten to the point that it would be more economical than buying from the grocery store. Neva even questioned if we should start buying milk two gallons at a time. Perhaps two cows for sale?<br />
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Just this afternoon, Joseph came up to me and asked if he could have a glass of vanilla wafers and milk. He is definitely his mother's child. Sometimes, I wonder if they both wouldn't mind trying to survive on vanilla wafers and milk. Now, I'm not talking about a bowl of wafers and a glass of milk. I'm talking the largest honking glass you can find, stuffed with vanilla wafers and milk. In an effort to save the bovine population from stress caused by over milking, I told Joseph, "No." That went over just as well as "I need you to change the cat litter today."<br />
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I started feeling a little guilty. After all, he is a growing boy. Just ask Norfolk shipyard. That's where we're going to be buying his shoes soon. There had to be something I could let him have for snack that would be satisfying, without causing some poor cow to be so sore she wished she had been born a bull.<br />
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Popcorn!<br />
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You know, those hard little seeds that come right off the stalk, already sealed in paper bags, ready to stick in the microwave. We all have fond memories of standing around the microwave, eagerly anticipating that first POP! What has this world come to? How could any memory of standing around a microwave be considered fond. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against microwaves. I find them to be indispensable. However useful they are though, I can't say one has ever evoked memories of the fond variety. My memories actually involve a black popcorn kettle and a hot stove.<br />
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It just so happened that Grandma Judi, from Pueblo, CO, sent us a whole bag of home grown popcorn. There's another conundrum. I've been to Pueblo. It's kinda barren. Not exactly where you would expect to find anything labeled as home grown. Nevertheless, that is exactly what I received; home grown popcorn. Guess what!?! This popcorn was not sealed in a paper bag, and something tells me that a microwave would have only crisped those little seeds up. It also just so happened that when Grandma (Linda, not Judi) let us move into the big house, it came completely stocked with the black popcorn kettle I really do have fond memories of. It was a special kettle made in celebration of the bicentennial celebration of the USA. In addition, the house also came stocked with a bag of Trails End brand popcorn (Yep! The same popcorn sold by the Boy Scouts. Joseph will be hitting all you readers up in the fall.). Cool, surely it will have instructions for cooking popcorn on the stove top. Place 1/4 cup oil in the pan. Good so far. Pour the popcorn in the pan so it makes a single layer across the entire bottom. Ok. So, how much popcorn is that? Huh. Anyway, I put half a stick of butter in the pan. I don't want oiled popcorn, I want buttered. I get it all good and melted. I still haven't figured out how much popcorn to use. I get out my cup measure, fill it with popcorn kernels, and start to pour...and pour...and pour. What do you know? It takes a whole cup to cover the bottom of this kettle with popcorn kernels.<br />
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The lid goes on, the stove is at medium-high, and I stir...and I stir...and I stir...and I stir...<br />
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Now that fond memory is coming back. How long do I have to stir this <b><i>^%#</i></b> thing! Wait! I hear something. It is the sound of...<br />
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Sizzling! Oh great! I'm frying my popcorn. Not knowing what I've gotten myself into, I sure am glad I did not inform anyone about what I was doing.<br />
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POP!<br />
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Oh my gosh! Was that actually a pop I heard?<br />
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POP!<br />
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There it goes again!<br />
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POP! POP!<br />
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I'm getting so excited, I could almost...suffice it to say, I'm excited. Before I could blink an eye, the popping started in earnest. Hundreds of little explosions were occurring on top of my stove. Suddenly, I could no longer turn the stirring paddle. The lid began to rise. The popping continued. White fluffy kernels of popcorn appeared in the top of the kettle. Then they flowed out...as they continued popping. Oh, <b><i>^%$</i></b>! Popcorn is going everywhere! It is now under the burner, creating little bonfires. It is all over the stove, and still popping! I pull the kettle off of the stove. Finally! I hear signs of the popping slowing down. I pour what did not go all over the kitchen into two large bowls. One bowl goes to Joseph. The other goes to me...to hold while Grandma enjoys it. After Grandma leaves (She was admiring Sissy's prom dress), Sissy decides she wants some popcorn.<br />
<br />
Note to self, one cup of kernels is WAAAAY too much. This time, we go with half a cup. Perfection! Two more bowls of popcorn. One goes to Sissy, and one goes to Joseph. The boy has no idea how regular he is going to be later in the evening.<br />
<br />
"Dear," a voice says, ever so sweetly, from the living room. "May I have some popcorn?" Gotta keep the wife happy. The popcorn kettle gives birth to a third batch of popcorn. Talk about being shocked! That poor kettle sat idle on a shelf for who knows how many years, then gets use three times in one day.<br />
<br />
So. Another fond memory was created today. And once again, it did NOT involve a microwave.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh popcorn! No microwave required.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-78091558963998751372012-03-01T19:27:00.007-06:002012-06-12T14:33:12.053-05:00Greatings from Cancun, Ireland. Huh?So...I've had a dream for quite a while. I often sit and daydream (Not at work! Really!) about one day opening an Irish pub. My brother's rolling his eyes right now. He just doesn't understand why I have a fascination with Ireland, and all things Irish (whiskey in particular) when he's traced us back to Scottish ancestry. I can't explain it, but I am positive there is a leprechaun somewhere in my family tree. Anyway, as I was saying, I've dreamed of owning an Irish pub. It would be complete with dark wood, a couple dartboards that look like they've been around since time in memorial, a kitchen cooking up bangers 'n mash, and a bar serving up Guiness, Murphy's, and shots of Jameson. Conjures up nice pictures in the mind, doesn't it?<br />
There's a problem with my dream. In my dream, right next to those shots of Jameson are shots of Patrón (Tequila, that is). No self respecting Irish pub would sell tequila...would they? None of the Irish pubs I've been in have. Okay, admittedly, I've never set foot in a real Irish pub, but this is my blog. So, stuffit!<br />
Anyway, as I was saying, no self respecting Irish pub would be serving tequila shots. What to do? What to do? Suddenly, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. When I looked to my side, what did appear? Twas a wee little man with a fluffy red beard...and sombrero.<br />
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"Who needs self respect?" he said to me with a big grin. "Serve them both!"<br />
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"What!?!" I replied incredulously. (Remember, this my dream.)<br />
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"You heard me right. Serve them both! And, if you really want to screw with their minds, serve both kinds of food."<br />
This guy was totally brilliant! Nothing says "Authentic Irish Pub" more than Chile Rellenos and enchiladas.<br />
<br />
"Or," he said, as we wrung his hands together, and chuckled an evil little laugh, "you can mix them."<br />
<br />
"No!"<br />
<br />
"Yes!"<br />
<br />
"No!"<br />
<br />
"Yeesssssss!"<br />
<br />
"What would I serve? Corned beef enchiladas? Molé and Mash?"<br />
<br />
"Faith and Begorrah! I can see this is going to be a long night. Perhaps you should ponder this a wee bit before coming to any decisions"<br />
<br />
With that he turned, and started to fade away. "Wait!"<br />
<br />
"Aye, me boy. What might you be wantin' now?"<br />
<br />
"I don't even know your name," I replied.<br />
<br />
"O'Shea...José O'Shea!"<br />
<br />
With a tip of the sombrero he disappeared.<br />
<br />
Henceforth my pub shall be called José O'Shea's. I think it just might be the world's first authentic Irish/Mexican restaurant. Of course, I still don't know the menu, but I'm sure some of my readers will be full of ideas. I figure my menu can be in three sections: <i>José</i> (Mexican), <i>O'Shea</i> (Irish), and <i>All the Way</i> (I think you can guess.) Go ahead and consider this an interactive blog entry. Tell me what food combinations you think would make a good <i>All the Way</i> menu. Maybe I will try some and post the results. Maybe.<br />
<br />
I do know one thing that will be on the menu. <i><b>José O'Shea's World Famous Green Chili</b></i>. That's what I entered today in my company's first annual Chili Gas...oops...Cook Off. Unfortunately, I can't call it "championship" because I had to settle for second place. I'm certainly not going to call it <i><b>José O'Shea's World Famous Second Place Chili</b></i>! It's all the fault of that Paula girl. She just had to make two chili's and win third and first place. On top of that, she's the one who tallied the votes! There's something fishy in Denmark. Sorry, we're talking Ireland and Mexico, aren't we? Really, Paula's a real sweet person, and would never cheat me out of anything. If I had to lose to anyone, I would rather it be her.<br />
<br />
THAT'S A LOAD OF CRAP! YOU'RE GOING DOWN NEXT TIME, PAULA DENBOW! YOU'RE GOING DOWN!!!<br />
<br />
Oh dear! I just don't know what came over me. If you haven't ever had green chili, prepare yourself. It is nothing like regular chili. But, that's not a bad thing. It's a delectable treat created from a cornucopia of God's good bounty.<br />
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<br />
You're looking at Chili Poblanos, yellow sweet peppers, jalapenos, onions, and tomatillos. Tomateewhats? Tomatillos. Those are those little round things in the nasty brown paper skins. You find them in the store with the tomatoes. Guess what? They're not even remotely related to tomatoes. When you peel the brown "wrappers" off, they look and taste like little green tomatoes. They are actually a berry though. In fact, they are related to gooseberries. Go figure.<br />
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Anyway, I took those deliciously fresh veggies, and combined them with garlic, chicken stock, three pounds of chicken, and a secret blend of herbs and spices, and Shazam!<br />
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Geez! Can you guess why it's called green chili? You ladle it over a bed of rice, and top it with a dollop of sour cream, or Greek yoghurt (Uh Oh! Now it's an Irish/Mexican/Greek pub!), and you have a wonderful concoction of peppery goodness. I'd give you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you. I can't be giving away top secret recipes from my restaurant. Can I!?!<br />
<br />
Anyway, we have one menu item down. We're hardly done yet, troops. Give me some help. I'm waiting with baited breath! (That could be from the eleven varieties of chili I ate this afternoon. Sorry!)Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-55806071872267432052012-02-11T12:56:00.002-06:002012-02-11T13:01:42.214-06:00With a wind chill of 18, what do you do? Make stoup!What is stoup? We'll get to that later.<br />
<br />
On February 2, Punxsutawney Phil stuck his little head out of his hole and declared six more weeks of winter. In Alaska folks grabbed their shotguns and headed for Pennsylvania. Six more weeks of THIS!?! Oh, @#$@ NO! Down here, in Memphis, we just shook our heads and said,"Don't you mean six weeks of winter...finally?" It is now February 11. Phil was a little late with his prediction, but it seems he may have gotten it right. No. We aren't under two feet of snow, but it has been super cold and windy (by Tennessee standards), and flurrying all day. I went to a pancake breakfast this morning. As I was walking outside, a dear friend of mine made a very wise observation. "Now, I know why deer can retract their..." Since there is the chance some children might be reading this, I'll just leave that last statement as a "fill in the blank". I think you get the idea of how cold it is today.<br />
<br />
So. What do you do when it gets that cold? You make soup. I have been waiting for soup weather. I know, it has been cool enough a few times this year that we could eat soup. However, this is the first day it was cold enough that as I was leaving breakfast, my mind was already mulling over what type of soup to make for lunch. I love soup. I know, as a society, we use the word love too loosely, but I LOOOOOOOOVE soup! Potato, french onion, chicken noodle, broccoli cheddar, vegetable. I love them all. Nothing beats the chills, or the sniffles, like a hot bowl of soup. So, for lunch I made soup...<br />
<br />
...or, stoup.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gettin' hungry yet?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I have a problem when I make soup. I add things. Lot's of things. You see, I decided to make some vegetable beef soup. I browned a pound of ground beef with a large onion and some Pennsylvania grown garlic. (Yep! I'm still trying to work through all the garlic Aunt Marcia sent back in October.) Once I drained the grease off, I added three cups of beef broth, and a cup of ham broth. Then, the adding really began. Two cans of veg-all, a can of green beans, a can of sliced potatoes, a can of petite diced tomatoes, and half a cup of quinoa (That's those little squiggly things you see in the picture above. They are a great source of protein and fiber...and the kids love them.).<br />
<br />
Whew! I need to catch my breath.<br />
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After simmering for twenty minutes, I added a box of macaroni noodles. Once those became edible, I added the powdered cheese mix (Oooh! I guess that makes this soup use # 122 for macaroni and cheese!), and stirred it up. By the time lunch was ready, as you can see in the bowl, there was very little liquid left. What is an extremely important element in soup? The liquid, of course! Now I have a dilemma. I've added so much stuff that I don't have much liquid. I can't really call this soup. Can I? No! If I called this soup, the great culinary gods would race out of the giant kitchen stadium in the sky, and give me the what for! What does a man do? Change the name. Thus we had stoup for lunch. So, what is stoup? It's soup, with enough extras, one might be attempted to call it stew. It isn't soup. It isn't stew, but it is...I mean, was...mighty good.<br />
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The peach cobbler was good too! But, that's another story for another day.Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024142854846407774.post-49542558238874126092012-01-29T16:11:00.001-06:002012-06-12T14:33:54.485-05:00Some Deep Dish Thoughts: Use #121 for Mac n CheeseI decided it was time to write in the blog again. I came to the conclusion when a dear friend of mine approached me the other day and informed me that I had not logged on and said anything funny lately. I decided to write a blog entry on deep dish pizza. Why? That's what we had for supper last night, so it's fresh on my mind.<br />
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After I had decided what I wanted to write about, I had a brief moment of self doubt. Does anyone even pay attention to what I am writing? Not that it really matters. The thought that nobody is paying attention to me has not stopped me from speaking my mind in the past...except for when it is my wife ignoring me. Now that really chaps me. After all! Didn't the wedding vows say something about you will listen to your husband for better or worse, til death do you part? (I wonder how many times she has considered speeding up that death parting us part?) I think I should be listened to by my wife ALL the time. Not that I really deserve it. It should happen simply because I am the husband. Why shouldn't that philosophy work? It works for the kids! They certainly feel that you should be hanging on every word that comes out of their mouths. Just think back to the last time your eyes glazed over as your daughter told you about that lying, scheming, little shrew named Mary Alice; or that time when Bubba completely ignored Sandra Dee when getting off of the bus; or that time...<br />
<br />
Yeah, that's right! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your body goes into natural self preservation mode, and your eyes glaze over. Then...it happens! "Daddy! You're not listening to me! This is my senior year and should be the happiest time of my life. Instead it is the worst year since I've been born...AND YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! You hate me!"<br />
"No I don't, Dear."<br />
"Well! You practically said you hated me."<br />
"What? I said no such thing."<br />
"You're not listening to me, so you might as well have! I'm just going to go live with Memaw!" At which point Daddy lets out a thunderous laugh, taking an already explosive situation to the point of nuclear devastation. Do you listen to your daughter's endless chatter, or do you ignore her and listen to the screaming about how bad a parent you are. Do you get your fingernails ripped out, or your toenails? Either way, it's as painful as @#$#^$!<br />
<br />
Not that talking to my son is any better. It is just a different kind of pain. "How was your day, son?"<br />
"Fine."<br />
"What did you do today?"<br />
"Work."<br />
"What kind of work?"<br />
"Math."<br />
"What did you do in math?"<br />
"Dunno. Numbers."<br />
"Thank you for stimulating my brain, son. I'm going to go over there and have a real conversation with that rock."<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
The whole point of this, is if I have to live with this torture from my kids, shouldn't my wife have to live with my senseless banter? Therefore, if my wife should have to suffer through my senseless banter, shouldn't you as well?<br />
<br />
I wonder though, how many of you are really reading my blog, and suffering like a good person should? Officially, I have three followers. However, I think they just did that out of the kindness of their hearts. I know one of them (my daughter) has to practically be forced to read this blog. So, since she is a follower by coercion, I will say I have two followers. Even then, nobody leaves me any comments? So...do those other two really follow me? Why don't any of you leave comments? I know the people officially following me ALWAYS have opinions. (I am not above goading you into commenting.) Perhaps, it is because you cower in the presence of such literary genius. You feel there is nothing you can say which compares to what I have already written...Or, perhaps it is like my daughter says. You just hate me! You're ignoring me, so you might as well be saying you hate me! (I might be forty two, but I can still throw a teen tantrum with the best of them.)<br />
<br />
The whole point of this nonsense is simple. Leave me a comment on this blog or Facebook. I would love to know someone, other than the prisoner who is my daughter, is reading my blog...and hopefully, enjoying it. <br />
<br />
Once again, I digress.<br />
<br />
So, yesterday I was lying on the couch doing what I do best. Nothing. I happened to turn to my favorite educational channel (Food Network), and saw a guy pulling a deep dish pizza out of the oven. A light bulb suddenly flashed in my head. I've never made deep dish pizza before. Let's have that for supper. I pulled out my handy iPhone and looked up a recipe for deep dish pizza, and decided, yeah. I can screw that up real easily. So, Christina and I go to the store. As we are going up and down aisles, getting a few things, she asks me, "Are we gonna have mac n cheese?"<br />
"No, Dear. We're having deep dish pizzas."<br />
"I know. I'm talking about a mac n cheese pizza."<br />
"I'm not going to cook a deep dish mac n cheese pizza. We might as well just sit down with a huge pot of the stuff."<br />
"But, Daddy! We haven't had Mac n Cheese pizza in a long time. You know how much Joseph loves it."<br />
"No."<br />
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Anyway, below is the recipe for the Mac n Cheese deep dish pizza we had last night.<br />
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<b>Mac n Cheese Deep Dish Pizza</b></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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2 boxes of your favorite mac n cheese dinner mix</div>
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1 Stick butter</div>
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1/2-2/3 cups milk</div>
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1 small jar alfredo sauce</div>
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1 canned pizza dough</div>
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pepperoni</div>
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2-3 cups cheddar cheese</div>
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Large spring form pan, deep dish pizza pan, or deep foil pan</div>
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Use the mac n cheese dinners, butter, and milk to create mac n cheese. (Do I really need to tell you how to do it?) Roll out the pizza dough so you will have enough to cover the bottom of the pan, come up the sides, and overlap a little. Spray your pan and place the dough in it. Layer 1/3 of the cheese in the crust. Follow that with half of the mac n cheese. Then one layer of pepperoni, followed by half the alfredo sauce. Repeat with an additional layer each of cheese, mac n cheese, and alfredo. Finally, layer on the last 1/3 of the cheese. Fold the overlapping crust over on top of the pizza. Don't worry about covering the entire top. I just think the folded crust gives a nice rustic look. You might want to lightly brush the crust with olive oil to keep it from burning too much. Bake in a 400 degree oven for 15 minutes. Drop the temperature to 350 and bake an additonal 30 to 45 minutes. The crust should be golden brown. The picture below shows what mine looked like. I used a cheap foil pan. I have a spring form, but I made two pizza's and wanted them both the same.</div>
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The final step is to serve this sucker. It can easily make 6-8 servings...or it can make four scrumptious monstrous heart attack inducing servings! Guess which route we took!</div>
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As I mentioned above, I made two pizza's. The second was more traditional, and equally delicious. I took a bag of three pepper and onion blend, and sauteed it with a pound of mild Italian sausage. I then made the pizza by layering in the following order: Mozzarella, sausage pepper blend, pepperoni, pizza sauce. I repeated those layers again, and finished with another layer of cheese. Just for kicks, I places a few leaves of fresh basil on top of the cheese. Below is the scrumptious results.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlQxnuSW2OwAHkaJanb-b2fndIAEitysBFjmJCxiIA0Yr6_QmdL06tKM31AYDUDnelPFl8WuuGPafhZxGv512KIZIdyyYs5brnES1vvlsjyhmRZwMEfdg_uC01reKj9DLOVtNnl1wiAA/s1600/pizza+2b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlQxnuSW2OwAHkaJanb-b2fndIAEitysBFjmJCxiIA0Yr6_QmdL06tKM31AYDUDnelPFl8WuuGPafhZxGv512KIZIdyyYs5brnES1vvlsjyhmRZwMEfdg_uC01reKj9DLOVtNnl1wiAA/s320/pizza+2b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I would say that even if my deep dish experiment did not result in truly authentic Chicago style deep dish pizzas, it was still a resounding success! Give one of these pizzas a try and tell me what you think. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeze! Tell me!</div>Jim Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09508490220257588860noreply@blogger.com4