January 23, 2008

Next year's baked goods are going to suck anyway

The Cookie Fascists have struck again!  Instead of recognizing my greatness and giving me my rightful due (a full supply of cookies next December), they have seen fit to give the Cookie Crown to another, another who was willing to pander to their narrow-minded definitions of "cookie."  I mean OATMEAL COOKIES???  Anybody can do that.

So now I know how it goes: assuming I don't go on strike and boycott next year, I will endeavour to make the most boring, blandest dough-disks imaginable, perhaps even ready-made, rather than the startlingly awesome confections that I made this year.  And I shall no longer listen to blandishments and praise, because these promises of greatness-recognition did not bear fruit.  Fie!

The Cookie Sultanate will have to wait another day because of the infidels.  Infidels, I say.  Infidels who gave out at least five prizes out of NINE contestants, and the name of Námo Mandos not among the winners.  Even the cookies that (might have) had interesting effects on canine digestion won a prize (judging a second-string contest).

One last thing: a big shout-out to the folks and loyal fans at Bread'n'Roses, especially GDK for the brownie recipe.  Y'all get to be sore losers along with me.

December 31, 2007

Chupaqueso!

Soon an arbitrary moment will pass, and we will write our cheques for 2008 rather than 2007, if we haven't already been doing that.  But more important is my discovery of this:

Frying cheese

It is something my friend made at a party a few days ago.  He called it "chupaquesos."  It apparently comes from some webcomic.  Is it not awesome?  There is only one ingredient: grated cheese.  That's eat.  Just eat the fried cheese.  It is like a cheese omelette without the annoying eggs.

Rather than ring in the """New""" """Year""", I am ringing in the chupaqueso.

PS: I also had dessert at said party.  With another friend's awesome pineapple carrot cake.

Dessert

By comparison, your tables were meagre indeed.

December 18, 2007

Woe unto the Men of Númenor

I felt obliged to post now in order to counter the litany of slander and lies against me and my fellow competitors in a certain bake-off in which I am participating with some US bloggers. 

But this contest is completely over.  Yes indeedy, the Doom of Mandos has decended.  Fear my wrath.

My goodies, of course, arrived first, first of all the goodies in the bake-off.  Were it not for the Númenorean stubborness and rejection of inevitability by the competition, that should have been that.  I would not only be the Vala of Doom, I would also be Cookie King for a year. 

Let us examine!  Emerging great and terrible from a smithy I borrowed from Aulë is but the merest beginning of the total pwnage.  Behold!  The brownies of the Noldor, in their natural splendor:

Brownies out of oven

And then, made from the remaining sap of Telperion, is the secret family egg dish of the Valar.  Here is its humble but amazing batter beginning:

Secret egg sweet recipe batter

It prepares to enter the furnace of Aulë:

Secret egg sweet recipe batter in baking pan

And here it emerges, to be placed among the stars (and served to the judges)!

Secret egg sweet, baked

Last, there is the sacred spicy nut brittle of the Vanyar, eaten only every 157 years, at the special feast of the Movement of the Foot of the Lark.  It is cooling.

Spicy nut brittle

Arrogant mortals will always regret going up against the forces of the Valar.

And looks like it is ready to ship to the cookie judges, including the great Cookie Queen and her co-judges themselves via the Eagles of Manwë.

In the box

And we have some beautiful music to accompany it!

(Thanks to some nameless Canadian Maiar who will remain unlinked, alas, until the contest deadline has passed.  But this was a team effort.)

September 12, 2007

I have shaken the hand that annoyed Tucker Carlson

chuckles-candy

I went on a trip to DC, and today a new era in world history has begun.  I have met Chuckles in person!  This momentous event sent a cataclysmic  of mystical energies through the ether, the magnitude and significance of which you may never comprehend---but they will affect you!  And it did involve eating delicious Ethiopian food.  Awaze tibbs, mmm mmm.

(My Canadian readers wouldn't know who I'm talking about or his significance to human history, so they might want to read the Coles Notes version here.)

April 09, 2007

Greek Orthodox Easter: delicious

Today I spent most of my day at the house of a group of Greek dudes who are friends of mine, because they were celebrating Easter with a traditional Greek Easter luncheon.  On the menu:

  • Fresh-baked, warm, Greek-style foccacia bread with rosemary.
  • Tzatziki (two kinds, with two levels of garlic) for the bread, and, in fact, for everything else, since Greeks eat tzatziki with everything.
  • Homemade spanakopita.
  • Greek salad quite unlike the restaurant kind.  Very tomato-ey and with a lot more oil and feta.
  • Salad with lettuce, dill, and olive oil.
  • Potatoes baked crisp in a bath of olive oil and rosemary.
  • Barbecued chicken.
  • Swiss and Muenster cheeses.
  • Gyro bread.

But most importantly, there was a lamb on a motorized spit over a charcoal-filled firepit.  The lamb was spun for hours over the pit (it was dead already, don't worry) while being regularly brushed with a mixture of olive oil, oregano, salt, and pepper.  People kept wandering up to it and tearing off slices even before it was finished.  And when it was finished, it was so delicious all the way though.

Unfortunately, I had to leave early, just after the lamb and been put on the table for the twenty or so of us to descend on it, so I did not fill myself to bursting with the afternoon lamb.    But what I had was delicious.  The crispy outside layer, and the lambishly tender meat underneath.  With a bit of tzatziki, heavenly.  Mmm.

Next year, I will have to figure out how to gatecrash a Passover seder.  But this Muslim's verdict on Greek Orthodox Easter: delicious.

March 07, 2007

Pork, peace, and their discontents

I love that "...and their discontents" trope.  I should use it more often.

Via the Adorable Girlfriend at the Republic of Dogs, we come across this bit of cobaggery*, Peace Through Pork.  It's a cafepress store selling T-shirts that purport to bring about peace by confronting superstition.   The T-shirts have the slogan presumably translated to Arabic and Hebrew, a clear reference to the Middle East conflict.  Obviously, they mean to imply that the Mideast conflict emerges from religious differences among the inhabitants of the area, and by confronting a major cultural and religious taboo, they can efface those difference.

This absurdity would make more sense if it weren't for the following.  If there is any local historical cause for the problems in the Middle East, it certainly wasn't the religious, but rather secular nationalists, some of whom were willing to eat pork.  And then the conflict was fed and nutured by nations with allegedly Christian histories, most of whom did and do engage in wide-spread pork consumption. 

I know that Peace Through Pork is a joke, but it's still only funny if you suffer from the lazier forms of liberalism.  Or are a pork eater of Jewish or whatever-ethnicity-is-usually-Muslim extraction, but that's another story.

Oh, and, confidential to AG: I forgive you!  Honest!  That last "another story" applies to you because of UC.

*"cobag" is short for colostomy bag and a rather evocative epithet invented and used by a small group of US humour blogs, including the Republic of Dogs, in order to reduce the frequency of more common racist and sexist epithets in humour, I think.  Way to spoil a joke, eh?  But my Canadian readers would be confused or, for that matter, most US bloggers.

February 03, 2007

Animals and death

Nope, this is not a philosophical post.  This is instead a post wherein I throw a bone to all of the people who demanded that I post my travel photos.  Here's a small sample, then.  The theme is animals, either about to die or already dead or having profited from death.  Below the fold, then:

Continue reading "Animals and death" »

January 27, 2007

The Wonderfulosity of Cheese, Part 8: The Return; or, Thank Heavens for Argentina

I know, I know.  My throngs of adoring fans have been missing this feature for a long time, I'm sure.  Well, you shall once again catch a small glimpse of the Mind of Mandos on fromagerrific fun. 

While I haven't been writing this feature---conveniently available in my "Food and Drink" category*---for a while, I have not stopped searching for interesting cheeses.  I just had to share my latest find with you, which combines the taste of a high-quality aged imported cheese with the affordability of a cheap store-brand domestic cheese: Argentinian parmesan reggianito.  This is the Argentinian knock-off of the Italian (obviously) parmesan reggiano, so named because, apparently, it comes in 15 pound wheels rather than the Italian 80 pound wheels.  It is less than half the price of the Italian version at least where I bought it, and this brings it into a price range comparable with generic non-imported non-aged cheeses.

But this is definitely an aged cheese, and for the price, it is an excellent buy.  It is primarily intended as a grating cheese as most parmesan cheeses are, but it is not a particularly hard parmesan, and can be sliced and eaten on crackers or toast.  It has a balanced, slightly nutty flavour, not too sharp, but with a hint of a sting.  The outer layer of this aged cheese is dryer and nuttier-tasting.  Being a grating cheese, the slices have a grainy texture.

I just melted it over toast, and it melts with a very nice consistency.  It retains its flavour, becoming slightly more sharp and sour---which is should.   All in all, a very good cheese for a low price.  Too bad that place where I bought it from is not usually convenient for me to go to, but when next I visit it, I'm definitely buying another wedge.

*The name of the category was what was provided by TypePad in its initial selection of categories.  Interestingly, I have so far only ever reviewed food, not drink.  Curious, eh?

October 30, 2006

Culinary sneerage is not always justified

I am ambivalent about directly discussing my living arrangements in Amrika, including my general location; and perhaps irrationally so, as I have obliquely revealed it from time to time, and many of my regular readers already know.  This occasionally leads me to a certain amount of consternation, because one of my hobbies---and the only one that costs me any serious money---is fine and/or interesting dining.  And living in the general vicinity of a major American metropolis, I try to take advantage of the culinary options when I can.    So I have an urge to write reviews of the places I eat, but I suppress them because of my policy of no direct allusion to my living arrangements.  It's a loss because I suspect I could increase my hits by writing about it.

Nevertheless, I have finally found a restaurant which I can write about, and that's because it's a megachainrestaurant, the Olive Garden, where I have eaten for the first time in my life.

Now, I have read all over teh internets and with considerable frequency a large number of criticisms of the Olive Garden, especially from the American liberal blogosphere.  It usually happens that occasionally, American liberal bloggers and blog commentators decide to play out a stereotype.  Some effete liberal bigcityslicker decides to mock the podunk ignorant rednecks by observing that they do not eat at the authentic Italian family restaurant but instead display an immense lack of taste by eating at a prole restaurant like the Olive Garden, displaying their addiction to prepackaged American mass culture from which liberal sophisticates are wholly exempt.  For some reason, I see this a lot from New Yorkers talking about tourists.

I realize that this may merely be effete liberal bigcityslicker practice going on, but I can't help but imagine there's a huge dollop of fat-phobia involved.

So, without further ado, I am here to inform you, after my first attempt, that the Olive Garden is---wait for it---not that bad.

Why did I go to the Olive Garden?  Well, one happened to be closeby, and after seeing a lot of criticism of it, I at first avoided it.  But then I became suspicious about the criticism, that there was a certain amount of holiness and snobbery about it.  Now, I actually don't mind the snobbery so much, but I was also curious to know whether the food being snobbed about actually tasted bad.  And it didn't. 

Here's what I got:

  • Freshly baked breadsticks
  • Their house salad with Italian vinaigrette
  • Braised beef ribs with cheese tortelloni in an portobello mushroom marsala sauce.
  • Chocolate mousse cake/cheesecake.

The baked breadsticks were pretty good---they were fresh and warm, and the crusts were slightly flaky.  Would have liked more butter with them, but they did fine.  There were unlimited refills of them, in true chain-restaurant style, and I used them to wipe up the sauce at the end of the entreé. 

The house salad was definitely the weakest part of the performance.  It too was an unlimited refill deal.  But the reason for this showed: it was clearly made from the same storebought prepared salad you get from the grocery store, the kind with the slices of red cabbage and carrot julienne.  The vinaigrette was too strong, and I prefer creamy dressings anyway, usually.  The be-feta-ed tomatoes were pretty good, though.  But it was a decided "meh", and I didn't order a refill of it.

The entrée, that being the beef and tortelloni, was honestly quite good---as you may have noticed, I even wiped up the sauce.  While it clearly is not "authentic Italian", even American Italian, to set the tortelloni swimming in excessive sauce, of course the Olive Garden does so, and I more than forgive them for this, because as a South Asian, the concept of something swimming in curry/sauce does not bother me one whit.  In fact, the habit of sneering at excessive sauce is one of the reasons why Western restaurants frequently bore me.  (I feel that they are trying to be cheap, and the pretentious amateur critics who tell me these things are letting them get away with it.) 

The beef was tender, perhaps too tender, as I actually like to chew a little bit, but nevertheless quite tasty.  The tortelloni were filled with unadorned ricotta, which is a tad boring, but the sauce more than made up for it with its strong flavour.  (Did I tell you that I'm also somewhat unimpressed by excessive claims of subtlety in flavour such as that made by certain types of Japanese cuisine?  The Indo/Paki in me.  I still like sushi, however.)  The quantity was pretty large, which is normal for American restaurant, but it was practically my first meal of the day, aside from a bowl of enraisinated bran flakes, so I was hungry enough for it.

The chocolate cake at the end was a large slice of a 3-layer cake.  The bottom layer was a moist chocolate "bread" cake.  The middle layer was the chocolate mousse, and the top layer was cheesecake.  It was covered in a soft chocolate icing with a chocolate chip backing.  I cannot say no to this sort of thing, although I was almost at the point where I would maybe have liked some help from a friend to finish it.  But it was good enough that I decided I wanted to finish it.

The service: fine, no objections.  Not an Italian in sight, of course.  The whole meal cost a little bit more than $20, miserly 15% tip included.  Not bad value for the price.  I had a piece of tiramisu at a non-chain Italian restaurant a few weeks ago that cost $8 alone.  Admittedly it was a good piece of tiramisu.

Actually, all-in-all, I cannot say that a "family-owned" Italian restaurant would give me necessarily any more than I got, comparing on quality alone, not quantity.  I have had tedious meals at authentic Italian restaurants, much worse or more boring than what I had at the Olive Garden.  I have had good meals at such places, far better.  Either way, it's usually more expensive than the Olive Garden, although the ambiance is naturally less like an extremely fancy sit-down Macdonald's---meaning prepackaged.  I will say one thing for the "local"/non-chain restaurants: they typically have far more interesting appetizer selections.  The Olive Garden's appetizer menu looked boring, and I didn't order anything from it.  By contrast, a family-owned Italian restaurants gave me, for the first time, a good introduction to eating grownup artichokes.

So: do not take me for endorsing ditching your local expensive Italian restaurant in favour of the Olive Garden.   The snobs are correct: the Olive Garden, by dint of its chainness, will never have the ambiance and cachet of your independent Italian kitchen.  It will never be an *adventure* to eat there.  And yes: you probably are more holy for eating local and independent, rather than Evil Corporate.  But the quality and taste of the food, for the most part, surpasses the justification for snobbery.  Which is never a reason not to be a snob, but as laudable a vice as it may be, snobbery is also not a reason to think that you're above liking the besnobbed.

October 06, 2006

Kosher dates

I recently bought a package of dried pitted dates to replenish my stock for this second week of Ramadan.  For those who don't know, it's traditional---though by no means obligatory---to break a Ramadan fast in the evening with a date.   I actually like the taste of dates, so I tend to eat more than one a day, and my stock diminishes quite quickly.

Anyway, these dates are from, God help me, the Dole company.  And they aren't that great, as dates go.  A little stale-tasting and mushy, but passable.  Dates should be a bit chewy, really, and a little more sweet.  More heartening, however, is that mark that this package of dates bears.

The sign it bears: the familiar and welcome mark of the Orthodox Union, one of the Jewish kosherifying bodies in the USA.  Prior to the OU providing kosher examination services to date distributors, you see, there used to be an unfortunate practice in the date industry called "date-porking".  You see, it was discovered a long time ago that they best way to keep dates fresh tasting---not stale like these Dole dates---was to wrap the date bunches in large slices of ham for transport, and then "dust" the dates off afterwards by lovingly rubbing the ham slices over them individually.  Kosher approval of dates has put an end to this unfortunate practice, and I, for one, am grateful to the OU for this service.