I need to apologize.
First, for the inevitable RSS emesis that this post will induce, since it’s been almost two and a half years (!) since my last post.
Second, for the fact that it’s been almost two and a half years (!) since my last post.
I have no excuse.
A lot has changed since I last wrote in this space. New apartment, new job, new garden out front, new CSA subscription (more on that later, I think). One thing that hasn’t changed is my devotion to ethnic (and not so ethnic) cuisine. I’ll continue to post–woefully intermittently, no doubt–various techniques, recipes, and experiments to this blog, and I hope you will enjoy reading and discovering and occasionally scalding your hand or something.
Oh, there’s another new thing going on at the Greek-o-Rican household: chickens!
Chickens. In a crate. Aren’t they cute? Don’t you want to find out more? Yes you do! Yes you do! Awww.
So a while ago I was invited to a wedding. My freshly married friend was (and is) an anthropologist who specializes in Chinese minority cultures, so our wedding treats were…interesting. One of the items I received in my goody kit was a mysterious beverage kit labeled “Eight Precious San Pao Tai Tea.” It looked like this:
And it took me about three years to build up the courage to actually make and drink it.
Hot tea. Sugar crystals. Floaty bits. Read on for more.
Sorry about the long absence. Real life encroaches on digital utopia. To make up for it, I regale you here with tales of our adventures at the North Carolina State Fair in Raleigh.
Somehow, the North Carolina State Fair has become renowned as a showcase for brinksmanship in fried cuisine. Mention the State Fair to a local and it’s likely that one of the first things you’ll hear mentioned besides prize-winning pumpkins, tractor pulls and sheep auctions is fried Oreos. So this year, while others were attempting to catch e. coli at the petting zoo, we set out on a quest for x-treme fried.
Grab a roll of paper towels and read on.
I love ribs. I must admit an attraction to the barbarian bone-gnawing involved. However, I can’t abide the price that they charge at the grocery store for a food product that’s 3/4 inedible by weight and which is traditionally considered a scrap cut of meat. I mean, who ever heard of paying $5 a pound for what’s essentially a string of bones chained together with a bit of meat and sinew? So I was pleasantly surprised when I came across a few packages of particularly meaty beef short ribs at the local Harris Teeter for a reasonable 99 cents a pound–and ended up coming home with about six pounds worth.
Read on to find out what became of this beefy treasure
A few weeks ago, during some caffeine-fueled fit of internet freebie hunting, I acquired a coupon for “One free multi-pack of Glucerna shakes (up to $11 off).” So I figured that, for free (or nearly), it was worth trying.
Glucerna shakes claim to be a dietary supplement or meal replacement of some sort, intended “for people with diabetes.” In addition to a bunch of nutrients, it’s got low sugar, high fiber, and some strange ingredients like chromium picolinate and “Enova” oil, which are supposed to help with blood sugar levels and whatnot. Healthy? Perhaps. Useful for diabetics? Potentially. Regardless, there was only one question that I wanted to answer about Glucerna: Is it food?
Click here to find out!
Postre de Tres Leches is a traditional Latin American dessert in which a dense, sweet cake is doused in a combination of condensed milk, evaporated milk, and cream. It’s topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, which I guess makes it quatro leches, but who’s counting?
A few weeks ago Alton Brown made tres leches cake on the “milk” episode of Good Eats, and I’d been dying to try it. So, in preparation of getting together with some friends to watch Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter, I thought I’d give the recipe a shot. (If anyone has appropriate puns for this juxtaposition, please let me know.)
Click here to read about our trip into the land of cream and sugar
So it’s about 10:30 when the Picky Epicurean and I get home from a lovely dinner engagement the other day. The Epicurean stumbles off to bed, as she tends to do. It’s about this time that I remember that I’m supposed to bring a an item into work tomorrow morning for a staff breakfast. What do I do, hotshot? Do I drive to the 24-hour grocery store and buy some bagels and cream cheese? Do I stop by the donut shop before work in the morning? Do I call in sick?
I do none of these things. Instead, I stay up until 1:30 making a freaking quiche.
Click here to learn of my foolish insomniac baking.