Archive for July, 2009
On the Lamb In Hell
Going to a major supermarket in a large city on a Monday is fucking miserable. Especially after a long weekend dedicated to consuming your not so healthy regiment of grilled foods and alcohol. Everyone is pushing through each other, families with screaming kids take up entire ailes, and the lines are a rabid clusterfuck of impatience and frustration.
But there I was, wandering around in this chaos, trying to figure out what the hell I’d be eating for dinner and pretty bored with my options. I wanted meat and I wanted grillable, but everything I was seeing (chicken, pork, steak) I had cooked or eaten recently. I wasn’t in the mood for a three hour slow cook either.
And then, in the corner of my eye, I spotted them: precut, bone-in lamb chops the size of lollipops, only one package remaining, looking up at me. I stared in disbelief. Most French trimmed whole rack of lamb chops I have played with were pathetically tiny, but these beauties were actually a decent size! It may actually take one or two bites to consume the medallion. I looked around like someone about to steal a purse and snatched the chops up without another moment of hesitation.
Ain’t No Thing Like A Chicken Wing
I’m on a bit of a streak right now. Four days I’ve been able to eat fried chicken wings, and the trend could continue depending on where I end up tonight. I’m proud of this fact. Sure, it’s not the most healthy diet, but given the excess of grillouts and bar hoping, and overall indulgent time of year, properly cooked wings are one of the best eats that this fine country has blessed the world with. Give them to me fried; give them to me grilled; dry, wet, hot, tangy, spicy. I don’t care, I will not tire, I will not submit. There’s just something so wonderfully primal about eating meat off the bone, licking your fingers, piling up the napkins and diving back for more.
However, I need two thing to maintain my wing obsession: crispy skin and ranch dressing. Without those variables I lose interest relatively quickly. Ranch is a personal preference of course, but why would anyone want wings without a crispy, flavorful skin to encase the juicy, internal wing? That said, I’ve been trying to tweek and figure out the best methods of making the wings I love at the house.
The basics of wing splitting and more after the jump..
A good excuse to eat with your hands..
Thank God our Forefathers decided to seek independence in the summer, happy 4th
Taking a Whiz with Peaks of Otter
Now I know what you’re thinking: “Blake, it’s great you have these beautiful women up on your site, but why the fuck do they have cheese whiz on their hands?” That’s a fair question I suppose, but I’ll answer that in a bit. First, I have to confess that a while back when I wrote up my adventure to Vintage Virginia Wine Festival I always felt like I left something out. The wineries covered are solid spots without question, but there was one “vineyard” that really stuck with me, and I finally got around to sitting down an checking out more of their products. I’m talking about the gang over at Peaks of Otter.
In the middle of a quasi-hoitie toitie local wine event with talk of tannins and mouthfeel and sundresses, a gang of dread lock rocking, punkishly dressed “sommeliers” were pumping up their crowds like it was Mtv’s Spring Break. Our first pass, we spotted them pouring shots of habanero infused wine while making their tasters hoot before giving them a sample of their desert wine to cool their heated palates. I was curious initially, and we laughed at the novelty, but it wasn’t until our 3rd pass that we decided we had see what the fuss was all about.
More girls after the jump..