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Manolo's Food Blog - Part 22

Coffee à la Canuck: part deux

Red Green

Red Green


Remember our intrepid Canadian caffeine addicts from Afghanistan? Well, if you think THEY were ingenious, wait till you see how we home-brew java chez Canuckistan. Here’s Canadian heart-throb Red Green to demonstrate Lawnmower Coffee.

via CoffeeGeek

Monday Food Porn: Vacation Cupcakes

Vacation Cupcakes

Vacation Cupcakes

Would it be too much to ask: that these be Margarita-flavoured?

But Ossifer!

I haz an alibi!

Busted!

Busted!

It seems some people just can’t get enough of Canada’s Second Greatest Export (after that avatar of grace and elegance, Pamela Anderson). Yes, according to TMZ someone in California today hijacked hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of Dan Aykroyd’s Crystal Head Vodka, about which we’ve blogged elsewhere.

“My partners and I are sorry to lose this much vodka to theft and do not condone criminal activity in any fashion, but we are happy that some consumers will be afforded the opportunity of tasting it at significantly lower than retail price.”

Think about it: if they’d hijacked the same volume of Iceberg vodka, they could have saved about $150,000!

Alas Poor Aykroyd

Alas Poor Aykroyd

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Bacon-y Night!

Bacony Night

Bacony Night

We’re all about the various interpretations of Van Gogh lately, god knows why. But we are. While we’re on the topic of the fine art of Baconation, here are a few other images that you might enjoy:

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Wine A-Z

The Wine Rack: Now THAT is what I call a Go Cup

That’s what I call a Go Cup. Heck, it might even make jogging tolerable.

Well, maybe it won’t boost your cup size all the way through the alphabet. Still, this handy-dandy little portable wine container will definitely bump you from an A to something farther down towards the Mittel-European consonantry. And yes, it’s called the Wine Rack. And no, I have no use for it myself, as I can already hide a 40-ouncer and a couple of highball glasses in my bra with room left over for garnishes.

To Żubrówka and memories

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.

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Sunday Food Porn: Mother’s Day Edition

Happy Mother’s Day, y’all! I, alas, am an orphan, so I’m stuck at home ordering marked-down perfume from Sephora and cracking bittersweet Norman Bates jokes; presumably, you’re hanging out with at least one parent. Are you taking Mom out for her special day, or slaving away in the kitchen gaining a new appreciation of how hard she toiled re-heating all those Swanson dinners while you were growing up (Team Salisbury Steak, represent!)?

Now THAT is fancy! A formal dinner for Mother's Day

Now THAT is fancy! A formal dinner for Mother's Day. Collage by Beth Hoeckel

and don’t forget dessert:

It's like a unicorn chaser for your belleh!

It's like a unicorn chaser for your belleh!

Try to find an activity for the whole family for the after-dinner festivities!
No:

Yes:

Pickman’s Sampler

You, loyal readers, know how I am. Servicey. So when I saw the following cri de coeur on Twitter I knew I had to help.

Sorry, no cubular ice cream, but I DO have some non-Euclidean chocolates!

Pickmans Sampler: an unspeakable horror in every box!

Pickmans Sampler: an unspeakable horror in every box!

Think about it: doesn’t this explain That One Chocolate in every assortment that seems to have been puked up straight from the mouth of Hell?

Food for Thought