I had a lot of the leftover bean/pasta stuff I made for the Tastebuds food people. And by that I mean they politely choked down a teaspoon of it and I was left with a massive amount to take home. That was fine, I liked it and it came in handy when Carol came over very spur of the moment on Monday night. I dumped a number of cheeses into it including ricotta and covered it with provolone and baked it. It was good but surprisingly the cheese didn’t really enhance it all that much. 

And I forget how freaking stringy provolone is.

Corporal works of mercy

I am not sure which of the seven Corporal Works of Mercy I was accomplishing last night. (You can see the complete listhere) #1, Feeding the hungry or #4, Visiting the sick. Since I was taking food (#1) to the recovering, but still house-bound (#4), Carol, I’m pretty sure I get double the points. (In this case actual grace [as opposed to sanctifying grace]—it sickens me that I know this) On the other hand, I think that when you do these works of mercy it is not supposed to be pleasurable. I have the idea that when you are doing them it needs to be uncomfortable at the very least, or better still, deeply unpleasant. Picture taking gruel to an elderly, unwashed, bedridden person with sclerotic lesions around their mouth and then sitting with them while they gag it down making polite convo even if you have to hold a handkerchief over your mouth and nose.

Nothing that gets you points in heaven, which is to say sanctifying or actual grace, the two types of grace there are, is ever actually fun. Like, you are not going to get “actual grace” taking your nephew to Great America or, say, splitting a bottle of gin with a homeless person (#3, Give drink to the thirsty) under the viaduct.

In this case I did not hold a handkerchief over my nose most of the time. And I suppose that since I ate the food with Carol it somehow diminishes the rich hallowed glow of my good works. The food was exquisite, I have to say, the buttery potatoes and the slow roasted, and BBQ sauce-burnished ribs. There may also have been a glass or two of sacramental wine involved, St Rodney the Strong, if memory serves.

Sülz ‘n stuff

My friend Carol, who is German (well, actually Austrian and German) brought me some head cheese and liver sausage after she read my recent posts describing my brave forays into the world of dubious German food. She got these from a German butcher in Door County. The sülz was good (My mother LOVED it and ate it with gusto) although it was not like the stuff I had in Germany. The German head cheese had a completely different flavor profile and was gelatinous in a not exactly scrumptious way. This sülz was good but the liver sausage was fantastic. I ate the whole damn thing (minus the pig intestine casing) on Triscuits with lettuce. It was the bomb as some people I know say.

And get well soon wishes to Carol.

Food in Florida

I was in Florida for such a short time I can hardly remember it. Although if memory serves I did eat a thing or two. Carol made this lustrous strata. It was almost too pretty to cut in to. But we did. We ate out on the lanai watching the little alligators.

It started raining about 10 minutes later. I remember that much.

Raspberry filling fail

I made this luscious looking cake a second time for a smaller group of friends. A half-recipe of the Nigella Lawson recipe I made the week before. I had some leftover frosting but not really enough to frost a cake with 2 layers, even a small one. So I made a raspberry filling, straining out the seeds from a jar of jam my friend Carol had made, adding butter and chocolate, and spread that between the 2 layers. I drizzled the fondant over the whole thing. The cake itself and the frosting (fondant) was lovely and delicious-ish, the raspberry filling just tasted like you hit a spot of sour. 

I should know better than just wing it with stuff like this. I could have just asked the google.

Eating at the bar back when I was fat and happy

An old unpublished post. Dinner at the bar at Lake Park Bistro in August.  A). Currently I am starving. This looks beyond fabulously delicious to me. B). I was dining with Carol and what could be better? And C). I mean seriously, those frites!!!

My Month of Pain has extended, unfortunately, into February. I have plateaued and while my pants are no longer implements of torture, the reports from my local scale have been less than boundless good news. I’m considering removing a limb.

But those frites…ah well, slop for dinner, again.

“Standing” rib roast

It was New Year’s. Carol was coming over. A standing rib roast was called for. And yet, it was more of a leaning rib roast, maybe even laying (lying?) rib roast. Necessity is the mother of invention.

It was delicious. Slow roasted, falling apart rather than rare. 

Luring Carol

These are so damn easy to make on the grill. So cheap to buy and the best thing is that I can get my friend Carol to come over simply with the suggestion that I’ll make them. 

This time I tossed the wings with corn starch just before I threw them onto the grill which made them crunchier and soaked up more of the sauce.

New life for bad wine

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that I should not cook with wine I wouldn’t drink. And I don’t. But my friend Carol brought over a bottle of rosé (Personally I would never touch the stuff), poured her self a glass and couldn’t get to the sink fast enough to spit it out. So I had the better part of a bottle of rosé to deal with.

I used it to braise a pot roast. And, Jesus, it was excellent.