Pensieri di un lunatico minore
I have been coming down to North Carolina for a project for a few months. Unfortunately, a combination of coworkers who seem not to like Carolina-style BBQ, and a vegetarian, seem to have conspired to keep me away from BBQ. That is until now.
Having decided I didn’t want to wait till 7:30-8:00pm for dinner, I decided to question the great oracle, and see what I could find. Hozannah! BBQ near by, and it was a place I vaguely recalled driving past. Doing a bit more digging online, I found a rave review by someone whose opinion has been pretty accurate in my past experience. So there was my dinner plans. The joint is only 2-3 miles from my hotel, so it was easy to find, although Google had it on the wrong side of the road.
Behold, my first proper NC BBQ plate in a while, courtesy the kind smoke wizards at Backyard BBQ Pit:
Pulled pork BBQ, or just “BBQ” in this area, hush puppies, collard greens and some lemonade. Oh, and a really yummy-looking piece of lemon bundt cake. Just as I was starting my meal, the okra I had ordered showed up, even though I had forgotten it already!
So how was it? First, the good news: the BBQ itself was excellent. It is, in fact, one of the better examples of Eastern NC-style BBQ that I’ve ever had. Moistened by some vinegar and chili flakes, it balanced the wonderful sweetness of the pork with just a bit of sharp. None of it over powered the pork in my mind.
The sides were generally great. The collard greens were outstanding, tender yet not mushy. The okra was some of the best I’ve ever had. Greeselessly crisp on the outside, almost creamy on the inside, with none of the “slime” that so often troubles okra. The hush puppies, however, were unremarkable. Not actually bad, but lacking in the crisp exterior that I want in a hush puppy. Perhaps it was that they had sat under a heat lamp—something that isn’t kind to fried foods—but I could have done without them gladly.
Finally, the cake. Yum! Obviously homemade, and reminding me of my friend James’s lemon cake that is famous within the circle of friends. The icing and top of the bundt was crisp and the whole thing was lemony. A perfect finish.
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As a friend termed it, “Italian steak and eggs”:
Of course, you can’t have dinner without a salad:
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Behold, another pie is born:
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Sometimes all I want for dinner is a salad, but not that insipid bland thing that passes for greens in most restaurants.
Tonight, I made a nice salad with baby greens, seared skirt steak, heirloom tomatoes and caramelized onions. All of it tossed in a homemade (is there any other kind?) burnt fig vinaigrette.
Yum!
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You know you are in the South when one of the fast-food joints is not only called Biscuitville, but also has pretty darn good fresh biscuits.
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When I was growing up in Texas, it was a dark, dark time for milk-derived food items. The “authorities” were telling everyone how evil butter was, and how you should use this wonderful almost-kinda-like-sorta-butter margerine, that was really little more than highly processed food “products”. Whipped cream was evil, but you should eat all the “Cool Whip” you want. I just don’t get it. Sadly, there are people who still think Cool Whip is the best thing to put on top of … well, probably some other mass-produced, engineered food product.
Now I’m not one to tell you that putting some artificially engineered vaguely creamy whipped product on top of your high-fructose corn syrup diabetic dessert disaster is a bad idea; it’s all just personal taste. But for the love of all that is creamy, pick up the damned spoon and don’t make someone put it in a damned can so you can spray it into your mouth when nobody is looking!
Or, better yet, pick up that whisk and a container of heavy cream and make your own “whipped topping” that will taste 10,000x better, and is also healthier for you. Your taste buds will thank you, as will the environment.
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Cream cheese frosting brings a relentless cascade of drool to many people’s lips. It is, at its core, a very simple frosting and yet it is so often cloyingly sweet and bereft of the tang and substance that makes it so sublime. Here then, is my “ultimate” cream cheese frosting:
| 8oz |
cream cheese, cold |
| 4Tbsp |
butter, unsalted |
| 2Tbsp |
powdered buttermilk (Sacco) |
| 3/4C |
confectioner’s sugar (10x powdered) |
| 1tsp |
vanilla |
The method is reasonably simple. Beat the cream cheese until lightened and slightly airy. Then, add the butter, beating to combine. Then, add the powdered buttermilk and mix.
Once that’s done, slowly add the confectioner’s sugar1 until combined and the texture begins to change. At that point, add the vanilla and mix in. Spread, eat, repeat.
1 This is to taste. I like it less sweet, some people use more.
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When I get bored, I bake. This is the result:
A pineapple-buttermilk pie with a meringue top. Loosely based on this recipe.
A follow-up, once a taste test could be performed. First, a slice:
On the surface, no problems. While it might look like the meringue did not adhere, it did. So kudos there. The crust, on the other hand, is not what I was looking for. The taste is fine, but I simply didn’t blind bake it long enough, so it got a bit damp. Not soggy, but not what it should have been. The filling’s texture is a tiny bit looser than I would like, but I think this is likely due to weeping from the pineapple that makes it simply loosen up over time.
The taste? Yowza! The taste is very good. Total flashback pie. And, if I do say so myself, a darn near perfect meringue for my tastes. Structurally sound, but just barely so. Nothing that fights against the fork, which to me is a frustrating battle.
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Food. The simple word conjures up memories of home for some, and terrified cold-sweats of diet-fueled insanity for others. As Americans, we have a passive-agressive relationship with our food. We eat too much, but by and large, it’s the wrong things. We fear fat, but worship high-fructose corn syrup. Which do you think occurs in nature?
Michael Ruhlman writes about America’s fat problem, and he doesn’t mean the ever-expanding waistline. Of all my travels, I’ve never been anywhere else in the world where the word “diet” is greeted with anything but complete and utter derision. People in France, Italy, China, Japan and Korea do not diet. It’s simply not in their relationship with food. Ours, however, is dysfunctional in the extreme, and so people are constantly swinging from “fat will kill you” to “eat more bacon, it’s a health food”. Both are wrong. Bacon is beautiful, but like all things, moderation is the key.
Now, why would anyone listen to me for health advice? I’m not exactly built for a Calvin Klein ad. I do have an observation of late with my extensive travels throughout the United States, but not internationally. Because of my constant “road warrior” status, I eat out a lot. I eat at a lot of horrible places1 because I’m in places that only have chains. I carefully pick and choose from the least evil of the offerings, but without a doubt, I’d be better just stuffing my maw with a stick of Kerrygold butter, as it is healthier.
I’ve always struggled with my weight, as has my sister and my dad—at least until he snapped, and went all IronMan on us. I had been under control though with a modicum of exercise, walking a lot to various things, and cooking at home most of the time. Then the travel started. Not only have I struggled to eat even passably well, but I’ve had to find new ways to get any exercise in, and my weight has gone up. When I’m home, I cook as much as I can.
What am I going to do? I don’t know. This is one place where not only do I not have answers, but I don’t even have a lead on the right answer. Cooking on the road is a difficult proposition, and restaurant choices are limited. How do other people deal with this?
1 Applebees, I’m looking at you!
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Sometimes the simplest things are the best.
While it’s not “berry season”, at least anywhere near Washington, DC, I did happen upon some reasonably nice looking berries at the market and couldn’t help but purchase them. I have a weakness for fruit. How then, to use them?
Simply.
A little Greek yogurt, Tupelo honey and lemon juice, mixed in equal parts—about a tablespoon each—and tossed with the berries. Nothing else needed. Yum!
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As I have a long drive ahead of me today, to Raleigh, I figured I needed to make sure I had a nice breakfast before I headed out. Of late, owing to my terrifying travel schedule, I’ve allowed breakfast to fall apart. I know that it’s the “most important” meal of the day, but I just haven’t had time to cook anything of substance.
Today, the substance was pinhead oats, or steel-cut oats, or whatever you want to call them. To paraphrase Alton Brown, there’s a reason we feed horses rolled oats, and you shouldn’t eat them as oatmeal. Anyway, this morning’s combination was simply oats and milk with a pinch of salt, and then I sliced up my remaining Turkish figs and added some Demerara sugar) on top. Yum.
Easy and satisfying.
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How to make a proper nacho. As someone who misses real Mexican and Tex-Mex, I pine for the days of real nachos. Just throwing a bunch of “stuff” on a pile of chips isn’t a nacho, it’s just lazy.
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Shrimp with Bacon Salt. Yum. I’d comment on the odd fact that Bacon Salt is vegetarian and kosher, except the shrimp kinda kill that.
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When time is short, and I’m simply out of ideas for what to cook for dinner, I often turn to my Italian heritage for ideas. What could be better than a little pasta with pesto? Tonight, I decided to try a new one made from piquillo peppers and pistachios. It turned out quite well, and you can find the recipe here in PDF form. I’m tired of fighting with HTML to make it look reasonable.
To go with it, I decided to do my own spin on shrimp fra diavolo, this time basically poaching the shrimp in olive oil that’d been warmed with chiles pequin in it to pull the heat out, without the bitterness. While a lot of people would saute the shrimp, I’ve found that high heat and shrimp—especially frozen shrimp—is a bad idea. Rubber is the result. Instead, let them just barely cook, almost poaching, in the oil.
The end result of the two together. As always, click to enlarge.
Not bad for less than half an hour. Now to get better at the photography aspect of food.
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I grew up in TX, the child of a woman from the south (KY), and so black eyed peas are an integral part of what I love to eat. Whether cooked simply, or in Hopp’n John, they’re a memory of childhood; no time more so than New Years Day. It is myth that they will bring good luck, but for me, it’s just a tradition I love. I’d give you a recipe, but there’s really not one.
For me, I cook 2 strips of thick bacon in a dutch oven, covered, with a little water to help render out the fat. After a few minutes, I take the lid off, and let it crisp, then remove it. If necessary, I add a little olive oil, and then sauté onions, garlic and red peppers until they start to soften. After that, just add some chicken stock, a couple bay leaves, thyme and usually a dried chipotle pepper and allow it to simmer for 10-15 minutes. I add the crisp bacon at the very end, so that it doesn’t lose all it’s texture.
Finally, combine frozen black eyed peas1 into the “stock,” and allow to simmer on very low heat until they reach a doneness that is good for you.
Eat. :)
1 You could start with dried, but honestly, it’s more work than I care for, and I’ve never found them better. Please, though, don’t use canned unless you are just unable to find the frozen ones.
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