Manolo's Food Blog Manolo Loves the Food!

June 7, 2011

Duck and Uncover: the Holy Hand Grenade cocktail

Filed under: Bar,Bourbon,Cocktails,raincoaster,Recipes,Spirits,Travel — raincoaster @ 5:35 pm

Victoria BC's got a problem. It's too cute: like being inside a snow globe only there's no snow, only falling cherry blossoms

Victoria BC's got a problem. It's too cute: like being inside a snow globe only there's no snow, only falling cherry blossoms

Victoria, British Columbia: home of the Newly Wed and the Nearly Dead. What comes to mind when you think of Victoria, British Columbia?

If anything…

No, it’s fine. I’m not in a hurry.

Rogers' Chocolates

Rogers' Chocolates in Victoria. No they do NOT have wasabi cream, you postmodernist asshole!

Well, the fact is you’re probably right: Victoria is as quiet as a city can be and still be a city, and quite a delightful exception to the usual urban bustlitude it is, too. The fiercest competition in town is rhododendron-and-herbaceous-border-based, and all the pedestrian crossing lights are extra-long, to accommodate the mobility-impaired and the just plain meandering, which often enough includes your faithful foodie and drinkie blogger right here.

And it did, just a couple of days ago. Accommodate me, that is, and that to a positively decadent degree; my suite at the Parkside had not one but two fireplaces, two big screen tv’s, and two bathrooms. For one person. I felt like inviting people over for a pee or something, not to mention enjoying the view from the bathtub, although that invitation might be limited to Viggo Mortensen and Julian Assange and while it might be a tight fit I’m more than willing to try it. It had to be said.

But where was I?

Parkside Victoria sweet suite!

Parkside Victoria sweet suite!

Parkside Victoria sweet suite view!

Parkside Victoria sweet suite has a suite view!

Now, I don’t know about you. I only know about me. And why? Because you hardly EVER use the comment box, not that I’ve taken it to heart. Oh, no. Not that the comments box and I stare at one another in the darkness, asking where we went wrong, where the silence comes from, is it me, is it you, is it the XML-PRC?

Not at all. But where was I?

Victoria. Oh yes, I was in Victoria. Well, let me tell you something about Victoria you don’t know (I won’t tell you everything you don’t know, because we’d be here for the next 45 minutes, easy, and I bet it’s feeling like that already). I’m going to tell you that when it comes to foodie culture, this pleasantly placid BC burg has your city beat.

NYC, Montreal, Chicago, pack your knives and go…

4 eg:

I went to a foodie/drinkie dinner in honour of Tom Bulleit of Bulleit’s Bourbon in Victoria and as everyone gathered around the table (some two dozen, unless I’ve forgotten how to count past ten without taking my socks off and that’s always a possibility, particularly at a bourbon dinner) it rapidly became evident I was the least foodie person present. One fellow pulled out five or six baggies full of white powder – Hoo boy, it’s party time, you’re thinking, and you’re not exactly wrong, but while the baggies were a cause of great excitement among the assembled partiers, they were filled with an unexpected substance: sea salt. It was sea salt he’d collected from different harbours all up and down Vancouver Island, as many shades of white as the Innu have words for snow. And my friend Janice pulled out her latest batch of House Made bitters (she makes everything from chai bitters to rhubarb bitters to celery bitters for your morning Bloody Mary), and so it went from the fellow who collects knives over 100 years old to the fellow who distills dandelion brandy until it got to me and I said, “I don’t actually make anything, but I consume exceptionally well” and that seemed to be enough. Hey, what’s a symphony without an audience, eh?

That dinner, which I should have written up at the time but will get to sooner or later, took place, like many of the best occasions, at Clive’s Classic Lounge in the Chateau Victoria, within stumbling distance of the Inner Harbour. I adore this place, but it’s not just me who loves Clive’s: Tales of the Cocktail, the internationally recognized cocktail snobbery and standards organization has just named Clive’s one of the four best hotel bars in the world, along with the Artesian and the Savoy in London and Clyde Common in Portland, Oregon.

And it was at Clive’s that I found myself the other night, for any night that I am in Victoria it’s a better than fair bet I’ll be at Clive’s. And what did I do there? I stole the menu, of course.

These menus, they’re like gold. Bartenders in Vancouver bid for them in cocktails. I got the last one up to three Negronis, and that from a bartender who hates to mix anything more complicated than scotch on the rocks. They do, of course, have “PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TAKE THIS MENU” on the back, but I like to pretend there’s evildoing in it: a splash of nefariousness makes the drinks taste better. Okay, Vancouver, what am I bid for this latest menu, which contains a spread of tiki drinks, both classic and “antiki”? Use your words, Vangroover: put them in the comments box!

Now, there are few things I love as much as a good tiki drink, and few things are as abused in this cruel world as the palate of the tiki drink fancier ( #firstworldproblems ). I remember a holiday in Oahu where I drank at a different bar every night just to see what they hell they’d put in their Mai Tai: anything from gin and pineapple juice to a flower that smelled like rotting liver and a grass leaf from the waitress’s skirt (that just can’t be sanitary, can it?). If you’re ever stuck in Oahu, play the Mai Tai lottery and you’ll never be bored (although you may be queasy).

But back to good tiki drinks, and one specifically, from the Antiki side of the menu at Clive’s: the Holy Hand Grenade.

Now, I defy anyone with an ounce of Nerd Pride to flip past a drink named after a Monty Python bit without ordering it, although the Dead Parrot might be a challenge, not to mention Spam. Naturally, a table full of bloggers fresh from the Social Media Conference had to sample such a geeky delight, and here it is: a world exclusive as far as I know, and believe me, I know better than to actually ask, because then someone might tell me it wasn’t, and if Almighty Google doesn’t tell me so then LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU, so here it is, a world exclusive: the original Holy Hand Grenade by Nate Caudle of Clive’s Classic Lounge in Victoria. And yes, it’s in metric: nerds LOVE the metric system, duh!

The Holy Hand Grenade

The Holy Hand Grenade

The Holy Hand Grenade
Nate Caudle
Clive’s Classic

 

50ml Bulleit Bourbon

1oz Green Chartreuse (OUNCE? what is this, Nate? Are you going bilingual on me or something?)

20 ml Appelkorn

20ml Chestnut Syrup

20ml Lime Juice

 

Shake and strain over crushed ice. Garnish with a cross made of palm leaf.

This is absolutely effective against vicious bunnies that are terrorizing the countryside, whether escaped from a Monty Python skit or from Hef’s mansion. After a couple of these, that bunny will be thumping you on the back and telling you what a fine, fine person you are and how did he not notice it in all these years?

How tasty is this thing? Well, as with all good cocktails that aren’t pousse cafes, it gives the impression of being one perfect thing, rather than an assemblage of ingredients. You’d be hard-pressed to identify any of the ingredients here, actually, and it comes across light enough that you could be excused for thinking it wasn’t a bourbon drink at all. Given the varied sweetnesses of which it is concocted, it’s surprisingly light and refreshing, with a mellowed citrus taste and a complex, warm and earthy aroma and aftertaste which is unusual in a drink this summery. It’s perfect for sitting on a patio or lanai, enjoying the scenery or maybe a paperback of something amusing by nerd god Terry Pratchett.

In fact, I have a strong feeling this would have turned Frank from Donnie Darko into Harvey of, uh, Harvey, in no time at all.

May 9, 2011

To Żubrówka and memories

Filed under: Cocktails,Exotic,Recipes,Spirits,Vodka — raincoaster @ 11:45 pm
Zubors. Zuborii. Zuborz.

Zubors. Zuborii. Zuborz.

“It smells of freshly mown hay and spring flowers, of thyme and lavender, and it is so soft on the palate and so comfortable, it’s like listening to music by moonlight…”

Somerset Maugham on Zubrowka

Listen closely and I will tell you a story. And it will be, without doubt, the best story you will read today and you will carry it with you, close to your heart like a flask of something warming and clear as a forest spring. Yes, some spirits just put me in the spirit to be metaphorical, and this bison grass vodka is one of them.

I have a Christmas tradition, and like most of my traditions, it’s a little un-traditional. You see, I collect Christmas ghost stories (and what, you may be asking, does this have to do with the subject matter of a food and beverage blog, and quite right you are but bear with me, the payoff is worth it). Great authors have written great examples of the genre, from Le Fanu to Dickens, from de Maupassant to Damon Runyon, and of these the greatest is a man of whom you have never heard.

Sarban.

Sarban was the nom de plume of a British diplomat who produced one slim volume of stories in his lifetime, and if you find it, grab it. And if you’re still wondering why, read on past my food and beverage blog subject appropriate digression to read his story A Christmas Story in its entirety, and then you’ll see why my Christmas isn’t complete until I’ve read this and why Zubrowka is near and dear to me and would be so even if it tasted like rotten myaso, which it does not.

It tastes exactly like Somerset Maugham has described above.

It’s an unprepossessing-looking liquid, almost exactly the colour and texture of gasoline, and in each bottle is one long, thin blade of bison grass from the Bialowieza Forest in north-eastern Poland, last refuge of the European bison, the Zubor. If you go ahead and uncork the bottle you uncork, essentially, Spring, the fragrance of forest clearings and wildflowers remaining noticeable even when the vodka is chilled to zero Celsius, which THIS vodka should not be. Vanilla is the dominant note, with hay and a touch of citrus zest, I’d say pomelo since it’s softer than lemon or grapefruit, and some floral notes as well, marigoldish although quite subtle. It’s sweet to the taste, because of the sugar, of course, which can make it challenging to mix if you forget it’s not like regular common-or-garden vodka. I enjoy this on the rocks, but at the urging of the company rep who sent me the bottle (hey, there have to be SOME compensations in blogging for a living, eh?) I asked a bartender of reknown for his best Zubrowka recipe, and marvelous it is, too.

Jay Jones’s Krasinski Cocktail

1.5 oz Zubrowka bison grass vodka

0.5 oz Liquore Strega

2 oz Rhubarb Syrup (fresh rhubarb, sugar, elderflower cordial)

2 dashes Fee Brothers’ Plum Bitters

Shake, strain into cocktail glass. You could, if the rep had sent YOU a promo bottle, garnish it with a tiny blade of bison grass, a packet of which she also sent along, and very snazzy that is too; let’s see your friends try to figure out what it is and then one-up you with “oh, I get MY bison grass from Mummy’s farm up on the Island” not that any of my friends would ever pull that on me.

Jay also suggests a cocktail of two parts cloudy apple juice (also known as cider in places where “cider” doesn’t mean alcohol) and one part Zubrowka, but you hardly need a recipe for that, do you?

Altogether, although this seems like a novelty liquor, you’re going to find that it’s extremely adaptable, interesting and fine enough to enjoy on its own, and likely to prove an esoteric favorite without being perverse or pretentious (Absinthe, I’m looking at you). Just don’t mistake it for regular old vodka and serve it frozen, in a shot glass. This is not the stuff of shooters, my friends.

And so, to the story. This entire tale is bracketed (and punctuated, frequently) with boozes of various types, but the magical story-within-a-story is entirely framed by Zubrowka, consumed in the Russian Consul’s house in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on a roasting Christmas Eve, 1928. Pour yourself something warming and pull up a chair; you’ll want to read the whole thing.

(more…)

May 3, 2011

Oven Carnitas for Five-O de Mayo

Filed under: Mexican Food,Pork,Recipes,Uncategorized — Erik Nabler @ 7:50 pm

Well, Drinko de Mayo is coming up, an American drinking celebration commemorating a relatively minor battle in Mexican History where the Mexican Army in the Battle of Puebla in 1862 scored a surprising victory over French Forces. Widely celebrated in the United States, it is of minor note in Mexico. It is akin to St. Patrick’s Day, where those of Mexican Heritage in the United States can celebrate their roots. However, it is also a good reason to hoist a glass and for the rest of us to pretend we are Mexican, or at least un poco Mexican. It is also a good time to dig in to some great Mexican food, such as –

This is a very easy and great recipe for Carnitas. Instead of having to slow roast the pork for hours and hours, this recipe takes very little work. It takes time, 2-1/2 to 3 hours start to finish, but mostly that is just having things in the oven. So, whip this up and impress your friends. It has a great pork taste and makes wonderful carnitas tacos, or really outstanding carnitas burritos. If you are going to make burritos, I highly recommend black beans rather then refried or other types.

I did, once, go to a true Mexican Carnitas roast where they butchered the pig right there, cooked the carnitas and some other stuff for several hours while we drank beer and anything we could get our hands on. I was pretty useless for butchering a pig, but I could certainly hold my own in the drinking department. The carnitas were awesome, but this recipe is easily as good and about a thousand times easier.

Oven Carnitas

Serves 6-8 depending on garnishes and stuff.

Ingredients

*Pork Shoulder, boneless – about 4 lbs. Trim fat cap and cut into large (2-3 inch) chunks

*1 teaspoon ground cumin

*1 medium onion , peeled and quartered

*2 bay leaves

*1 teaspoon dried oregano

*2 tablespoons lime juice

*2 cups water

*1 orange , halved

* salt, pepper

Instructions

1. Put oven rack to lower-middle position and heat to 300 degrees. Combine pork, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, cumin, onion, bay leaves, oregano, lime juice, (optional ground chipotle pepper) and water in large Dutch oven (you should just barely cover meat). Squeeze orange juice and remove seeds. Put juice and spent orange halves in. Bring mixture to simmer over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Cover pot and place in oven; Cook about 2 hours turning meat once. Meat should tear easily.
2. Remove pot and turn on broiler. Strain chunky junk from pot (do not skim fat from liquid). Place pot over high heat and simmer liquid, stirring frequently, until thick and syrupy, 8 to 12 minutes..
3. Tear each piece of pork in half. Toss in reduced liquid; season with salt and pepper to taste. Spread pork in even layer on wire rack set inside rimmed baking sheet or on broiler pan (meat should cover almost entire surface of rack or broiler pan). Broil 5-10 minutes per side until meat is browned and edges are very brown but not charred. Serve immediately with warm tortillas and garnishes.

Suggested garnishes are shredded cheese, diced tomatoes, salsa fresco, lime wedges, sour cream, a good bottle of bourbon, Mexican rice, a good bottle of bourbon, guacamole, thin sliced radishes, and perhaps a good bottle of bourbon

Ummm, Ummm, Bueno!

February 16, 2011

You say Pierogie and I say Perogy

Filed under: Canadian Food,Cheese,Recipes — raincoaster @ 7:20 am

Gluten Free? Why not, I guess

It must be said, and that by me (for my extensive blogging staff appears to have gotten into the sherry and is AWOL) that I am indeed making the very most that can be made of my missing gallbladder and subsequent license to eat whatever I want, whenever I want, regardless of how fatty it is. After months where bacon was an abstract concept and cheese a mere hypothetical, the luscious richness that fat brings to, say, Saint Andre Brie is a revelation.

Now, there are two ways to do this, to dive back into a diet that suddenly includes fat.

  1. The high-fashion route, ie lardons. As in Goop and other pretentious monstrosities such as the Pork Martini. Yes, the Pork Martini: The pork Martini serves many needs on many levels! In these pomo days, when old formulas are reborn with futile twists for our fickle, fin-de-siècle tastes, the meat cocktail stands out above wobbly, cranberry-tainted attempts at bar trendiness. When one abandons the olive garnish for that of a pork-rind wedge, the pork Martini merges the flavors of the working class with that of wealthier ones, bridging social strata. It has the humanitarian goal of bettering the nutrition of alcoholics, offering protein for those who prefer their lunches liquid: since meat digests longer, it will both inebriate and offer nutrients for longer periods! It will open new markets to pork consumption, adding American jobs to every level of the meat-industrial complex. And, finally, it looks really weird. To which one can only reply: Oh honey. Oh honey. Oh honey, shut up and get me another Bombay Sapphire 6:1 with a twist.
  2. The low-rent, diner route. This, my friends, is the route I have chosen (and does it surprise any of you?). The food and the company are both better, and my wallet still respects me in the morning. And in this marvelous, Bukowskian noshquest, I believe I may have found the ultimate food.

Winnipeg Style Perogies.

perogy cat knows when you're cheating on him with gnocchi

perogy cat knows when you're cheating on him with gnocchi

Although there hasn’t been a food invented that can’t be ruined by snobbery (yes, it’s been done with truffle oil; hasn’t everything?), the humble perogy is as pure a peasant food as the world contains, and if there’s one thing the peasants know, it’s that it doesn’t pay to be doctrinaire. When you have three things in the kitchen and you’re bored of them separately, you put them together and call it “Casserole” or whatever the local word is (there’s a restaurant in Portland whose best-seller is called “slop” but we do not recommend this for marketing purposes) and you just eat it.

A Shmenge's favorite food

A Shmenge's favorite food

Perogies are the perfect example of this: their infinitely adaptable, humble nature has spawned some amazing displays of loyalty, whether it’s John Candy diverting his flights to pick some up or inspiring spirited musicals.

A plateful of potato-stuffed dumplings served up with catchy tunes and a bit of humour is heating up into a favourite menu item for Ukrainian Catholics and other Catholic churches across the country.

The Perogy Supper Miracle, the hour-long musical comedy about a church fundraising supper written by Winnipeg musician and composer Danny Schur, is about to tantalize and entice audiences in Sudbury, Burlington, Ottawa, Calgary and Prince Albert in the next months…

Schur says he’s surprised and pleased that The Perogy Supper Miracle has attracted enquiries from churches all over North America since its Winnipeg premiere on Nov. 6…

“I’m pleased about The Perogy Supper Miracle because it’s a chance to do creative fundraising and creative ministry and it’s a good musical,’ says Gnutel, who portrays a priest named Father Mark experiencing a doubts and questions about his work while attempting to recruit enough volunteers to keep his parish’s perogy dinners operating.

Boston Pizza even, apparently, has a perogy pizza; that they serve this in Boston, well, colour me skeptical.

The lineup outside Baba's Perogy Hut could be extensive

The lineup outside Baba's Perogy Pizza Hut could be extensive

I grew up partly in Winnipeg, flying from Paris to Winterpeg at the age of 11 months (and I’m STILL not over the culture shock: Oscar Wilde got off the train and said, “SO this is Winnipeg. I can tell it’s not Paris” and every visitor since has said much the same) and fondly remember the one weekend every Fall when our Ukrainian friend Frida would come over and draft the population of the entire block, turning us into one huge perogy and cabbage roll factory, after which we would have enough to eat until the Communists came marching over the North Pole as they were surely going to do any day now. I remember eating them with everything, including ketchup, but distinctly do not remember eating them in the style known in Vancouver’s iconic Hamburger Mary’s diner as Winnipeg Style Perogies.

A lb of food! Cheese perogies topped with house made beef chili and broiled cheese with sour cream.

And here they are:

Winnipeg Style Perogies in all their cholesteriffic glory

Winnipeg Style Perogies by 604FoodPhotography,in all their cholesteriffic glory

Is this authentic? I SHOULD SAY NOT!

It should be “0.45359237 kilograms of food,” duh!

But what I can tell you is this: if you’re near starvation, after nearly three solid month of fat-free dining, it is about as close as the planet comes to the perfect restorative. Sure, the serving was the size of my head, and sure, there was too much cumin, even for me, but it was, nonetheless, a plate of ecstasy.

The kind you feel dirty about afterwards, which only makes it better.

January 25, 2011

Grilled! Cheese! Washed! Rum!

Filed under: American Food,Recipes,Sandwiches,Spirits — raincoaster @ 6:12 pm
Shawn Soole by Vancouver Foodster

Shawn Soole by Vancouver Foodster

UPDATE: Golly, just look how influential we are: it got in the New York Times today!

Well, what do you know? The humble ManoloFood blog has permeated the highest reaches of the Cocktailosphere and influenced Liquid Revolutionary Shawn Soole of Clives Classic Lounge, one of the best bartenders on the fair shores of the Pacific. Yes, undoubtably in response to our epic post about the world’s poshest grilled cheese sarnies, he’s been moved to create the masterpiece of cocktail curiosity known as Grilled Cheese Washed Rum.

And we have a world exclusive on the recipe:

You start with an amber, not too aggressive rum (specifically the lovely Mount Gay) and make yourself a super cheesy, super buttery grilled cheese sandwich with whatever bread you want. Make two, because you’ll want to eat one, silly! Crumble the spare up, soak it in the rum for 4-6 hours, covered airtightly which to me means pyrex pie tins with plastic wrap secured by rubber band. Don’t use plastic; it’ll absorb all the aromas! And metal is risky; stick with glass or pyrex.

Strain the crumbly bits out of your booze and toss them. Freeze the rum so that the fat solidifies and then break it off. If you freeze it too long, just let it sit on the counter a bit till it’s softened and you can pull the fat off in a sheet. This is almost as much fun as picking a scab, and with no pain! And it’s hardly gross at all!!!

So far, so awesome.

Now put it through a coffee filter a couple of times to get the last of the cloud-making bits, and what you’ve got left is your deliciously salty, deliciously savory, artisanal grilled cheese washed rum. Sounds crazy, tastes savory. It’s unusual but it’s also very, very good.

Cheers! For more sandwich-based beverage recipes, see this roundup of sandwich-in-a-glass cocktails made for National Sandwich Day, November 3rd.

January 19, 2011

Cheese It!

Filed under: American Food,Cheese,Food Porn,Recipes,Uncategorized — raincoaster @ 12:52 am
Grilled Cheese there are limits to deluxe

Grilled Cheese: there are limits to deluxe

You’d think so, wouldn’t you? You’d think that the simple Grilled Cheese Sandwich, beloved by ketchup-slinging toddlers and truffle-scented gourmets alike, could be appreciated for its own merits, without being tarted up like a four year old beauty pageant contestant, but noooooooooo.

Honestly, if you want to get fancy, make the pickle on the side an artisanal pickle and you’re good. Super-deluxe it by slicing some fresh mushrooms on top of the cheese before frying if you want, and you’ll even find that the enzymes in the mushrooms make melt-resistant cheese as soft and pliable as a wodge of velveeta in the heart of Eyjafjallajökull. Why, the low rent version made with margarine instead of butter may even contain the secret to immortality!

But that’s not enough for some people; indeed, some people never met a food they weren’t capable of enthusiastically ruining, including God’s Own Comfort Food, the glorious grilled cheese sandwich. I’d like to present (very much WITH comment) the world’s most expensive grilled cheese sandwich.

Now, it’s not the simple $50 fontina and truffle version featured on Gossip Girl.

For the Grilled Cheese Sandwich:
• 8 slices of fresh baked white bread; look for a local bakery
• 16 slices of fontina cheese
• 2 tablespoons sweet butter
• 2 oz. fresh shaved black winter truffles
• Salt and pepper

Layer 2 slices of fontina cheese between 2 slices of white bread and shave a couple of slices of truffles in the middle of each sandwich; do the same for all four sandwiches. Heat a large frying pan over medium heat and add the butter. When the butter melts, add the sandwiches and cook until the bread is nice and toasted. Remove and slice sandwiches in half and place onto four plates.

Adding a few extraneous truffles to something is, as we all know, the first resort of the unimaginative trying to make something ostentatiously and purposelessly expensive. Besides, truffles taste like toe jam that’s gone off.

There. I said it. Truffles are to mushrooms as durian is to mangosteen, which is to say, they are the version of that food that is served in HELL.

But I digress. Grilled Cheese Sandwiches. It’s a post about Grilled Cheese Sandwiches.

Right, the world’s most expensive grilled cheese sandwich, other than the $28,000 one with St. Mary of Cracker Barrel on it, is the $170 version made for the Frome Cheese Show and consisting of:

…cheddar cheese blended with white truffles, quail egg, heirloom black tomato, apple, figs, dainty mustard red frills, pea shoots, red amaranth, 100-year-old balsamic vinegar dressing and sourdough bread topped with edible gold dust.

Edible Gold Dust on a grilled cheese sandwich. Edible. Gold. Dust.

Please report on the geographic coordinates of your supreme being at this time.

November 12, 2010

Canadian Cooking with Reed Farrington

Filed under: Bacon,Canadian Food,Cheese,Chefs,Emetic,Recipes,Sandwiches — raincoaster @ 11:38 am

You people think you have the Sandra Lee thang all to yourselves, but the truth is, she’s simply one iteration of a worldwide plague; why, we even have one up here in Canuckistan!

Here is renowned “celebrity chef” (look, it’s Canada. In the US, celebrities need crowd control; in Canada, they need nametags) Reed Farrington (as portrayed by Gerry Eng), personifying the Canadian can-do spirit, combining three packaged convenience foods into one mouth-watering national classic dish: POUTINE!

Or, as he calls it, Poo-teen. I’ve never seen it eaten with chopsticks before, but hey, it’s a nice multicultural touch.

Cooking With Gerry – Episode #2: Poutine from Jay Cheel on Vimeo.

In fact, it doesn’t really matter what quality of components you use; the result always turns into a soggy, cholesterol-laden heart attack on a plate, rich in what hangover sufferers call “Vitamin G.” Here’s the recipe, for those of you who are not video-positive:

  • Make some fries. Or reheat some fries.
  • Make some gravy. Beef gravy ONLY, people; beef gravy is a food, chicken gravy is just a condiment.
  • Put some farmer’s cheese (cheese curds) over the fries, then put the gravy over the whole mess.

If this isn’t enough to clog your arteries, poutine (pronounced “p’TIN” with a contemptuous expression {as are all Quebecois words, actually}) is an essential ingredient in the Angry French Canadian Sandwich:

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November 11, 2010

Deconstructed Recipes

Filed under: Food Porn,Recipes — raincoaster @ 10:36 pm
deconstructed salsa from Worth1000

Deconstructed Salsa from Worth1000

Worth1000 just finished having another of their image contests, this one for Deconstructed Recipes, and I encourage you to check it out, not only because the images are impressive, but because it’s unlikely that, once a cook is done with the ingredients, they look anything like as beautiful as they do here. If only most food pornographers were as creative! Gourmet magazine would still be a real magazine and not an iPhone app!

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