Sweet, sweet fire.

Answer? T-bone. Quality cuts. Didn’t do anything fancy to them, either. Salt, pepper, olive oil. Maybe a splash of Worcestershire. That’s the beauty of good meat, it already has flavor. A good cut already has texture. I’ve seen decent meat get completely brutalized with forks and soy sauce and seemingly whatever else is at hand. But this… this.

Sadly I did not have a camera with me, but appearances aren’t my focus here. Around ten minutes on the grill did yield those lovely dark cross-hatched grill marks and a light browning. The best of all: meat that I could only describe as red and buttery. No need for whipped garlic butter. No need for steak sauce. No need for restaurant gimmicks. There’s just a big plate of meat perfection.

So little. So ronery. So ready to be eaten.

As a youngin’ in the kitchen, I was one to head to the spice cabinet and toss whatever I could find into the food. Bloody awful taste sensation, and a valuable lesson. Some of the very best food I’ve encountered in recent memory has been the most simple in nature.

I turn my nose up at “low ingredient cookbooks” in general, since one or more of the ingredients are invariably “can of condensed chicken beak soup” or “package of preservatives and hogs feet.” This kind of cooking screwed up my thinking for a couple of years at the start. I can’t stand needing prepared foods to prepare food. Convenience is great in a pinch, but… what happened to a meat, a veg, a grain?

The hogs (tiniest of the three little pigs pictured) got me thinking. Ingredients can be counted on one hand.

• Salt
• Pepper
• Oregano
• Apples
• Fire

A few hours later, there’s a roasted leg in my hand (on my face, on my shirt) and happiness truly exists. Also featured, corn roasted in their husks, and a bounty of sausages.

Simple pleasures -- and that is a saucepan of butter in the back.

Art of the Waffle?

Breakfast calls to me. Screams to me. I’m not satisfied in the morning with a bowl of raisin bran and some orange juice. I demand satisfaction.

I like a nice stack of waffles. I don’t care if they’re funny shapes, nationalities, or colors. I just like some waffles. Cooked up with some vanilla (the Lord made vanilla for waffles and pancakes) and drenched in maple syrup… heaven.

Sky's the limit. I'll stick to three.

Easy to make in small quantities, too. While stacks upon stacks of waffley wonderment would be a sight, I’m cooking for one. A one cup of flour batch of batter makes about four waffles for me. (The extra is for snacking while the others are in the iron.) I could make more, but the stuff doesn’t keep well, since I work with baking powder.

Yeasted waffles would be another matter entirely (and are also delicious. For another day.)

Hello, stranger.

Yes, the burger odyssey tapped out. My physician breathed a sigh of relief, so at least its a win for somebody. To bring it, and surlyman (I hope this sticks in your craw and you choke), a little closure, I’m tossing aside the frozen meat and bringing out patty making.

In the past, I always considered burger making to be carefully forming patties, never pressing on them, etc etc. Making mini meatloafs. To put upon loafs. Hello, carbs. Meet my friend diabetes. Kidding.

A friend of a friend of a friend told me about this wonderful piece of burger exposition: the smash.

Easy peasy.

Smashing!

Things I did wrong:

• Not thin enough. I needed to smash them more. More. MORE. A different spatula would have helped. My usual has long holes in it that leaked burger when I pressed down.
• Prepare fixins beforehand. These suckers cook fast. Greased lightning ahoy. While I was worrying over the camera and pictures, I had forgotten to slice up some onions and cheeses. Woopsie.
• Bought way too big of buns. Seriously. These things are mammoth. (Technically, they were labeled sandwich rolls, but they looked far tastier than the other stuff on the shelf. Same price. Whatever.)
• Not making enough. Six? Who was I kidding?

Nevermind that I ended up taking a bite of the burger before bothering to photograph it. You’ll have to excuse me. I was hungry.

Hot mama!

Fairy tales and unicorns put me up to this one. Lawdy. Let me lay down what went into this here bowl of joy.

• 1 lb chicken (dark meat, because it makes my world go ’round)
• 1 medium sweet onion (diced)
• 3 russet potatoes (diced)
• 2 poblano peppers
• 2 jalapeno peppers
• 2 serrano peppers
• 3 cloves garlic
• 14oz can whole peeled tomato
• salt, pepper, cumin, coriander
• white wine

I roasted those lovely peppers in the oven (tomato too, separate pan.) While that was going on, the stove top was rocking it out with browning the chicken and onions. When they looked browned with caramelized goodness, they were punched in the back of the face with the white wine. Let that cook down a bit. Added two-ish cups of water and some (forgive me) chicken boullion, the diced potato, and let it simmer under lid.

Ready peppers. They went from oven to plastic-wrapped-bowl, to steam for a bit before cleaning. Stems, skids, and seeds went down the garbage disposal, with the lovely, mushy pepper tossed in the pot. Mashed up the roasted bell pepper shortly after, and into the pot it went. Seasoned up with some salt, pepper, cumin, and coriander, and let it all mellow out. The potato starch thickened up the pot very, very nicely.

Very nicely.

Time to nosh. Cheers, surlyman.

Mystery filling.

In this case, I filled it with a mixture of bell pepper, button mushroom, and artichoke heart. It’s got a good handful of ricotta and mozzarella cheese. It’s glued together with a nice little blender sauce built from a can of tomato puree, carrot, celery, onion, and garlic. Lots of black and cayenne pepper to give it some kick.

Did the dough up in the bread machine, since, well, I’m tired of doing all of that by hand. My usual Sunday pizza dough mixture translated nicely to the machine. I mixed in a bit of paprika for the hell of it. Why not.

• Pizza dough
• Random fillings
• Folded, sealed, and vented
• Baked 15-20 minutes on a hot stone at or around 425 until delicious

Results? Success. They always are. I haven’t eaten one yet, though. These poor boys get cut up and frozen for dinner at a later date. Each pie is two meals, and each batch ends up with four pies. The leftover veggies and sauce were perfect for a big bowl of pasta, which I had instead. Good combination, recommended.

Here’s to hoping the sandwich doesn’t suck.

Steak Fries.

Saturday, Donny, is Shabbos, the Jewish day of rest. That means that I don’t work, I don’t get in a car, I don’t fucking ride in a car, I don’t pick up the phone, I don’t turn on the oven, and I sure as shit don’t fucking roll! Shomer shabbos! -Walter Sobchak

This is sure to turn surlyman’s gut. No burger again! Instead, a lovely plate o’ potato as a go with. What’dya’call’em… home fries? Steak fries? Big ol’ potato wedges. These were drowned in olive oil and smothered in my spice cabinet. Roasted them over the fires of heaven.

Good.

Stuff.

Come to think of it, these might be pretty good on a burger. Just imagine it. Do it.

Is that biscuits and gravy?

Now this is just getting silly. Is that biscuits and gravy… on a burger?

Yes.

• Diced biscuits
• Sausage gravy
• Nom nom nom

It’s handheld heaven. It’s also the messiest thing I’ve done so far. It is wise to let the gravy cool off just a touch (but not enough to congeal) so that when it runs down your fingers while eating, it won’t burn. Trust me, this is going to get gravy everywhere. After the burger is gone, then you have to eat your hands, because they’re so tasty. I’m having to post this burger by henpecking keys with my nose, since all I have left are nubs. Arrrr!

Spicy.

A recommendation from the Reverend… the gallo pinto burger. Or at least, near enough. I left the rice out, so it’s all beans, baby.

• Black beans
• Onion
• Garlic
• Cilantro
• Surly’s jalapenos

Simmered all that over the stove (started off with frying it up in some bacon fat, mmm) and shoved that bean patty onto a bun. Marvelous stuff. It’s a bit like getting double meat on your burger, there.