These last two production days have been long and its only Tuesday. We are taking a short break in between production and deliveries so I am sneaking in a quick post while I have the chance.
On Sunday I took the day off. Boy am glad I did. The dinner I prepped ahead came out super tasty and cooked in minutes.
I used my flat sword types of skewers for the grilled marinated pork. I made a traditional Spanish marinade which was a flavor bomb!
Since the pork were on large flat metal skewers, the meat cooked quickly. Faster than I imagined, its a good thing I had my trusty temperature probe with me.
The chunks of pork cooked on the grill took about 8 minutes. Thank goodness I decided to brine the pork first or it would have dried out.
Yum!
I will definitely be making these pork kebabs again. Last night for dinner I made pork sub sandwiches topped with quick pickled onions and cole slaw. It was fast, easy and delicious. I love leftovers!
Gotta go! Deliveries are waiting and I didn’t have time to edit; my apologies.
When I was a teenager, one of the most popular songs in the 80s from the group Frankie Goes To Hollywood was called, “Relax.”
This song was so popular that everyone walked around wearing white t-shirts with black writing that said, “Frankie say relax.” Modern knock-offs are wrong because they say, “Frankie says relax.” Don’t go fucking up my generation’s sayings, guys.
That being said, I crave one thing all week—something that I crave more than food or drinks; relaxation. Everyone does, I think.
Marty and I have a problem relaxing on our only day off of the week; we can’t. On Monday morning, speaking for myself, I am pissed at myself that I didn’t stick to my guns.
While cooking is relaxing to me, most Sundays, I overdo it by making something elaborate or super time-consuming. I start big projects that leave me exhausted, or I run around like an idiot running errands, including grocery shopping with a store full of other tired working-class folks like me. Everyone gives each other that knowing sympathetic look like this sucks, but someone needs to do it. We all know those someones are us.
Last night, we both went to bed early. I was asleep before 10 pm for an insomniac like me, which is rare. I guess waking up at 4:30 am plus the 90+ degree weather at the farmers market and talking for 5 hours straight to a couple of hundred people kicked my ass.
At the Troy Market yesterday!
As soon as we got home from the market, we threw on our bathing suits and jumped into the pool. It felt fantastic! All the city grime and clammy skin went away as our body temps dropped immediately, which helped rejuvenate us for a couple more hours.
I slept great last night in our air-conditioned bedroom, waking up on my own at 6:30 am. The first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes was, “ Maybe I should go food shopping this morning.” Difficult time robbing recipes started shooting around in my brain before I realized what I was doing.
Before I got out of bed, I told myself, “Knock it off, asshole!” I quickly remembered the promise I made to myself about a day of rest.
Next week, we have a big order to fill for our Pennsylvania distributor, Alpine Meat & Wurst House, and an extensive delivery day on Thursday. I have to rest, dammit, or I will whine all week.😬
I came downstairs and found Marty and Klaus on the front porch. He was sipping coffee and enjoying the quiet Sunday morning and sunshine.
I did the same and mentally put together the rest of my day. We have to eat later, so I decided to make grilled marinated Spanish pork skewers with yellow rice and peas.
I got my frozen pork tenderloins in a brine which is twofold. The brine helps the meat defrost quickly and adds moisture to the meat while it’s grilling.
I made a simple Spanish marinade for the pork and set up my rice cooker to start the yellow rice 6 hours later. After the pork is defrosted and sits in the brine for 2 hours, I will pat it dry, cut it into large cubes and get it into the marinade. I plan to let the pork marinate for at least 4-5 hours.
While doing this, I saw Marty running back and forth the driveway and asked him what he was doing. He said, “Farting around.” This is Marty’s way of relaxing because he can’t sit still even more than me!
Marty’s Sunday morning arts and crafts project.
The next thing I saw was him installing a small white shelf on the front porch railing he had just made for his side. I know it’s a drink holder shelf after watching him balance his drink glass on the porch railing last night, but I will amuse myself later and ask him what it’s for.
For the rest of the day, I will be strictly poolside. I’ve been waiting years for this and will force myself to do it. The struggle is real. 😂
Dinner is planned and prepped; the only thing left to do is dig out a bathing suit and start doing what “Frankie say;” relax!
Yesterday, Marty and I were delivering in Saratoga & Albany, NY. We stopped at Restaurant Depot to pick up a few things for us and a few cleaning items for the production kitchen.
As we walked around, we noticed many things out of stock again. Things were out of stock during the pandemic, but then things got better. Things have slid backward. On the drive home, I started to think about other food shortages in history and how people dealt with them.
During WW2 the people who were affected most by food rations and shortages were the women of the households who did the shopping and cooking for their families. Forgotten heroes of wartime were the women who had to make do.
They were encouraged to keep a positive attitude. Publications wrote suggestions for using war rations. Their patriotic duty was to fight the war at home by changing their families’ diets and being careful not to overbuy or have any food waste.
“We must all help win the war and one way is to save sugar for the solider boys.”
I say it was their patriotic duty because the rationed food was being saved for the soldiers fighting in WW2; their job was to figure out how to cook and bake without many staple items they were used to.
The first item rationed was sugar, then coffee. Next came meat, butter, cheeses, and fats. As women started figuring out how to cook differently, they shared their recipes by sending the recipes to the newspapers to print.
Women were united by the recipes and food they shared. Clever substitutions and ideas sparked more ideas and recipes. Women were still cooking delicious, healthy food, even with food rations.
One of the most popular recipes was for victory or war cakes. Food manufacturers began to print recipes for war cakes using their products. One example is The Crisco Victory White Cake recipe called on women to bake for their families. The recipe started with, “Lady, your family will say you’re a magician when you serve this new mouth-watering sugar-saving Victory Cake!”
Some substitutions for sugar were the liquid from soaked raisins and other dried fruits, corn syrup, and honey. Nestle encouraged women in an ad in the Saturday evening post to stop buying chocolate, announcing, “Chocolate is fighting food!”
Shortening and margarine were used to replace the hard to come by butter. Spice cakes replaced chocolate cakes and so on and so forth.
Vegetarian diets began during WW2 out of necessity. Women were encouraged to serve dinners such as Meatless Mondays and Wheatless Wednesdays. Home cooks learned how to use macaroni, rice, crackers, processed cheese, and spam as part of their daily cooking.
They used every part of the vegetable and meat. They saved the fat from meats since cooking oil was rationed.
Fanny Farmer 1943 edition cookbook.
Casseroles used small amounts of meat but were delicious and satisfying. Soups and stews used every scrap of vegetable, throwing nothing away. Now, do you know why your grandmothers washed their tin foil?
One of my favorite savory pie creations used the entire potato. The potato skins were boiled until they were soft and became the bottom crust of the pie. This is fucking genius! Kudos to whoever came up with that one.
I remember both of my grandmothers talking about making mock apple pie. The “apples” were soaked Ritz crackers. Welch Rarebit was another classic, and American Chop Suey became popular using only a small amount of meat, elbow macaroni, and tomato sauce.
Creamed eggs and peasAmerican chop sueyCreamed eggs on crackersCreamed potatoes with frankfurtersThe cookbook I found at school in an old filing cabinet when I worked as a lunch lady. It belonged to “No Way May” back in 1946-1947. The war may have been over for a year, but the ladies were still cooking like during wartime or food wasn’t available yet.
Can you even imagine if people today had to cook, let alone be creative, using only what they could find? Could Americans do without prepared and frozen foods if necessary? Could people cook only what they could afford due to the high food prices? Could they go without many staple items? Would cooks come together and help one another?
I cook dinner almost every night and have always been creative and frugal, but the shortages I saw yesterday were disturbing. While we were driving, Marty talked about how bad things were getting, and I tried to be positive and said, “But they will get better.” He told me, “Good for you to think like that; I like that.”
Like during the war, I thought of how scary it must have been to know that there won’t be items available. The rations changed often keeping everyone on their toes.
The women who helped “win the war” are amazing heroes to me, stepping up to the plate and doing simply what they needed to do. There were no other options, but they did it, and did it well! Many recipes are still used today, especially in vegetarian cooking.
I have a few 1940s and wartime ration cookbooks that are prized possessions of mine. Some I found at garage or book sales. I have my grandmother Nana’s handwritten cookbook, which has the recipe for Poor Man Cake.
I also was gifted my biological grandmother’s Victory Cookbook, the Wartime Edition. Having something that belonged to my grandmother, whom I never knew, is a strong connection to her. Looking at the pages of recipes that looked like favorites makes me smile.
When I go to bed at night, I give away all my worries to God. I know I don’t have to list them because He knows everything, but listing them helps me watch them float away. Last night, I added ample food supply for our country to my list. Amen.
When I was picking out my flowers and herbs, I smelled the intoxicating smell of an Indian restaurant. I’ve said this many times before, but we live in a food desert; there is no Indian food for miles.
I started sniffing around the herb plant rack, and on the other side, my nose zeroed in. I put my nose into the plant and took a big sniff and looked at the name of the plant; a curry plant? This is something new to me. Not to be confused with curry leaves from the curry tree native to India. Curry leaves are used largely in South Indian cuisine.
I waited until I purchased my plants, then took a tiny nibble of the curry plant. It didn’t taste like curry; it tasted like bitter parsley. Weird, usually the nose and taste buds are on the same page. Not in this case.
I read that the bright yellow flowers that blossom on the curry plant taste like bleu cheese! You know I’ll be tasting those suckers to see for myself. I’ll report back.
Dwarf plant on the left and tall on the right. Rosemary is in the middle.
I planted the two varieties of curry plants I purchased, one tall and one dwarf in a terracotta herb box with rosemary in between. Curry plants like sandy soil, so I added sandy soil to the bottom of the planter box. They like it hot and need drainage.
When I walk by the plants, I can smell that intoxicating smell. When I water the plants, the scent comes out even more. Today, after a heavy downpour, the smell of curry was strong, a smell I love. Shit, it made me hungry. Lol.
I had nothing planned for dinner but suddenly craved Indian food big time. The only protein I knew I could defrost quickly was shrimp. I decided to make Curried Shrimp with Basmati Rice.
I didn’t become familiar with Indian cuisine until adulthood and I love it. Unlike Chinese cuisine, Indian food is easy to make at home with a few different spices.
The curry powder you buy from a store is a combination of different spices. There is no such thing as a curry spice like cinnamon or nutmeg. Another Indian spice called garam masala is another combination of different spices.
Every Indian family has its versions of both curry powder and garam masala. I have made my own following a recipe, but I do keep store-bought curry powder on hand for quick use on a weeknight or in curried chicken salad or curried deviled eggs.
I looked up a few different recipes to remind myself how to make curried shrimp. I made an Indian version of curried shrimp, but there are also Jamaican, Thai, and other nationalities’ versions.
I threw some basmati rice into my rice cooker and started putting together the rest of the meal. The recipe goes super quick, perfect for a weeknight dinner. You can buy raw shrimp already peeled to save time. I always have shrimp in the freezer for quick dinners.
Here is the link to the Curried Shrimp recipe I used the first time I made curried shrimp; now, I improvise by adding a few more spices and tweaks to the dish.
This is a very home-cook-friendly recipe without any crazy or hard-to-find ingredients. It is simple and straightforward. Remember, Indian curried dishes are only as spicy as you make them.
Anyone new to cooking Indian cuisine may consider purchasing a curry powder from McCormick or a store brand. These are made for mainstream America and aren’t too spicy.
If you like Indian food and want to try something more authentic, you can get curry powder in an ethnic store. These have a bit more spice and flavor than the supermarket brands. If you like to cook, you can mix up a batch of curry powder yourself. Spices at the ethnic stores are very inexpensive; I buy all my spices there.
If you aren’t familiar with or afraid of Indian cuisine, taste a small amount of the curry powder on your finger or spoon. Is it spicy? If not, start by adding half of what the recipe calls for. If it’s still not spicy, add the other half. It is totally up to you if this is something new or you aren’t sure about.
I’ve written about one of my cooking students, MJ, who was afraid of Indian and Thai foods. She was worried they would be too spicy. It turns out that after learning in class that she controlled the spice, Butter Chicken became one of her favorite dishes. It’s one of her go-to recipes now.
The house smelled so good while I was making the curried shrimp. Marty could smell it when he was sitting on the front porch. It came out delicious, if I do say so myself. It was incredibly flavorful and satisfied that craving I’ve had since I brought my curry plants home two weeks ago.
I guess it’s a good thing I do live in a food desert since it forces me to learn to cook ethnic foods that aren’t available. Whenever I perfect any new dish, I consider it another notch in my cooking belt or apron, I should say.
For local people, curry plants are available at The Market Wagon and the flower market on Benmont Avenue in Bennington if you want to check them out for yourselves. It’s more of a novelty thing since you can’t eat it, but looks great in flower beds or containers mixed with other plants.
I’ve been quiet all week in terms of my blog. Why? I haven’t had a damn thing to write about, of interest anyway.
I wrote three blog posts but deleted them. All I could hear booming in my head was the voice of my friend and writing mentor Jon saying, “Why should I give a shit about this?”
About those three pieces? He was right. I don’t write for the sake of writing; I write when I have something noteworthy to share. It took me six months into the blog to realize this.
So what in the hell did I do this week that wasn’t noteworthy? Production and deliveries. Planted flowers, herbs, and sunflower seeds. I cooked mediocre meals. I cleaned out my closet—big shit.
Definitely, nothing to report about tackling the never-ending chore of laundry, but it’s good to see other people feel the same way about it as I do.
#100% true memes.
Lately, I’ve been good about putting my clean clothes away the same day and not leaving them in a clothes basket for days on end.
I am so freaking happy when I finish the laundry in one day and do not start wearing the clean clothes straight from the laundry basket and not my closet. Other people do this, right? So not something new to confess.
There are so many memes on the internet about laundry. Some make me howl laughing because they are accurate, and most people can relate. The ones that can’t relate most likely can fold a fitted sheet properly too!
I saw this meme yesterday about laundry that solidified the decision of why we don’t have a chair in our bedroom or a piece of exercise equipment.
I have a friend that used to say they are the proud owners of the most expensive clothes rack known to humanity; their Bow Flex machine. 😂
A relaxing Sunday morning.
It’s Sunday morning, and we are sitting on the front porch enjoying a cup of coffee. I don’t have a damn thing planned for dinner or even on my schedule. It’s cloudy out for the first time in over a week, so I won’t feel guilty if I stay inside or on the porch all day.
I did make lazy mock Eggs Benedict for breakfast this morning. Tasted like the real McCoy with 1/4 the work on a lazy day.
What will next week bring? Something excellent or noteworthy to post? We will have to wait and see. Will the laundry get done in all one day? I won’t hold my breath. Lol.
Yesterday, I stood at the end of the deck in the beautiful sunshine. It was in the 80s with no humidity. I yelled, “Geronimo!” Then I jumped into our new pool. I am not a gloater, but our pool is open, and we have been swimming since May 10th. If I were a gloater, I would say, “Waz up bitches! Check it out; I’m swimming already!”
Heat pump and filter system.
Swimming on May 10th may sound crazy, especially since we live in the Northeast, but the water temperature was 84 degrees. Marty and I waited our whole adult life to have a pool and decided we would invest in a heat pump to swim comfortably for six months out of the year.
If we didn’t have a heated pool, we would only be swimming in July and August. We both grew up with above-the-ground pools and used them a lot. We didn’t give two shits when we were kids if the water was warm or cold.
I remember my parents forcing me to come out of the pool when my lips were blue. My dad tried to keep me out of the pool if the water was colder than 70 degrees. The ridiculous thing to me as a kid and still kind of now is the waiting 30 minutes after you eat to swim again. Why?
How many people got stomach cramps from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch or a piece of chicken or hot dog for dinner. It wasn’t like we ever ate big belly sinker meals in the dog days of summer.
Yesterday, after production, we quickly put on our bathing suits so we could get into the pool to install our “wedding cake” stairs. I knew these pool stairs existed but didn’t know they were called wedding cake steps. Guess what? They look like a wedding cake!
A small set of wedding cake stairs.
We have learned from watching other people’s mistakes that since we are in our mid to late 50s, everything we buy we do with 15 years later in mind. Older people who buy a 3rd-floor walk-up apartment or build a brand new home and don’t put their master bedroom on the ground floor aren’t thinking ahead.
We both knew that going up and down a ladder wouldn’t work for us. It was shaky and dangerous using the ladder only a few times, so we knew it would be impossible down the road.
Marty found a set of used steps in Facebook Marketplace, where we find almost everything we buy. He picked up the steps for $150, which cost as high as $800 new. Marty is a master at finding the things we need at the right time and price.
The wedding cake steps make entering and exiting the pool safe and easy. As a bonus, the steps are a perfect place for us to sit and enjoy a cocktail in the pool.
Me and Sam relaxing today. This was absolute heaven!
We had to build a small deck for the steps to attach to; for the record dollar for dollar, that was the most expensive part of the whole pool project due to the unbelievably high cost of building materials.
Now we won’t have to go to a hotel that has a pool because we want to sit our asses on lounge chairs and take a dip. We can go somewhere to sightsee or to a particular destination when we go away.
Marty texted me this photo last night when I was at dance class. It’s the only one I have of him in the pool and it was great to see he was relaxing. The solar cover goes on at night to keep the heat in.
The best part of the whole heat pump thing is that instead of waiting to swim, we can do it already. We will be able to swim through October as well if we wish.
Today, I remembered everything I did in the pool when I was a kid, like handstands and crab walks. I jumped in a bunch of times. I transplanted some herbs this afternoon, and it was hot on our back deck. After I got done planting, the most incredible thing was I jumped back into the pool to cool off.
“Cannonball!” 😂
Klaus wanted to cool off in his own pool, but he destroyed it. Marty couldn’t get it away from him. 😜
Last month, Marty and I were invited to an end-of-the-year children’s concert. Since our kids are grown, and our nieces and nephew live out of state, we don’t spend time with any children.
We were invited by one of our first wholesale customers, who happened to be a Mennonite. We have gotten to know the owners and employees of the shop very well over the last five years. I like delivering and shopping there; everyone is so nice.
Four years ago, the Mennonites asked if they could come to our home to sing us Christmas carols. When they showed up that snowy evening, it was magical.
Many of them we knew from the store with their families, and some we didn’t know. They sang religious carols like angels singing out in the glittery snowfall.
The Mennonites celebrate the true meaning of Christmas without any commercial aspects. There is no Santa Klaus, Frosty, or Rudolf. No songs like, “Grandma got run over by a reindeer.”
Marty was running errands earlier that afternoon, and I asked him to pick up something we could offer the carolers. He picked up Chocolate Santa Klaus’. Needless to say, he was eating chocolate Santa’s until Valentine’s Day. 🤦🏻♀️
We said yes, we would like to go to the concert. We have watched our customer’s children and families grow over the last five years and wanted to hear them sing. It was nice they invited us or even wanted to invite us.
We are probably the last people one would think of “hanging” with Mennonites, but everything aside, we enjoy each other’s company.
A few years ago, we did a couple of spätzle tastings in their store. At first, I thought it would be weird since we are covered with tattoos and piercings. To them, it didn’t matter. They don’t judge us. Only God can.
Once we got used to the hymns playing loudly in the store, it felt like any other store we demoed. We fit in, and it was enjoyable. We all laughed a lot and had fun in the meantime. We got to know each other and realized we all have the same hard work ethic.
Last night, we both dressed up for the concert. I did not wear long sleeves to cover my tattoo sleeves, but it was chilly. Since Marty was careful not to wear a Mennonite signature plaid shirt, we laughed.
He decided on black pants with a navy blue button-down with tiny white polka-dots. It was good he didn’t wear his light blue oxford button-down since that is what all the Mennonite men wore to church instead of plaid shirts.
The people from the store always see us in our yucky production clothes or looking like we were dragged behind a truck, disheveled and tired. One time, I went dressed up to drop off a delivery before going to an event. Suddenly, one of the employees stopped me because they didn’t recognize me in the back room. 🤣
I was a bit nervous about what it would be like at the concert. Marty and I had no idea what to expect from their church, even though I have been to Catholic Churches thousands of times.
When we got there, I saw our customer’s wife and asked her what we do. She told me her husband would show us to our seats. When he saw us, he got the biggest smile and sat us with his family. He made us feel welcome.
When the service began, it was more magical than the Christmas caroling; it was powerful and beautiful. The congregation all sang a hymn that everyone knew the words to. They harmonized, and it seemed everyone had a good singing voice. It was beyond impressive, especially since there was no music, only singing.
After an opening prayer, the children began to sing together, then each of the three “rooms” took turns singing. Again, no music, songs with lots of lyrics and talking parts. There was no clapping. No showing off. No praise or glory; that is left to God, who makes it all happen.
The children were happy, funny, and entertaining while singing about God. Many of the songs were about lessons they have been taught with meanings such as kindness, sharing, love, gratitude, peace, patience, and caring.
As I watched the children sing and their parents watching them, I saw pure bliss and innocence. They don’t watch movies or tv, go on the internet, play video games, or get caught up in social media. They didn’t have any outside distractions, yet they seemed like regular kids.
The love I felt in that church last night is something I won’t forget for a long time. On our way home, Marty told me how much he enjoyed the concert and graduation of two older students, one being our friend’s oldest son.
I envied them for living life so simply and not having so many problems caused by all the distractions I mentioned earlier.
They don’t know about the horrors of social media and aren’t caught up in the hate present in our country and the world. They know essential news, and that’s it. I would be embarrassed if they knew just how disrespectful and mean people are to each other. How terrible the fighting and war going on in the world is.
It was like taking a step back in time where God mattered first, then their families. Yes, like us, they have worries, financial problems, sickness, and death. They have burdens that weigh them down, but they give it all over to God and trust Him and only Him.
It was a beautiful experience. We forgot about the distractions we have in our lives while we were there enjoying the bliss we were surrounded by. What a beautiful life they live. Amen.
I lost track of time; I thought Mother’s Day was usually the second Sunday in May. I only realized it was this Sunday a couple of days ago.
Growing up there were some years when my dad had to double up on gifts; my parent’s anniversary was May 14th, and it fell on Mother’s Day more than once.
My father always got my mother a gift from me and the other child they adopted for Mother’s Day. My mother couldn’t understand why she didn’t get one from him until he told her, “because you’re not my mother.” That went over like a lead balloon. 😂
When our boys were small, it was our tradition that we would go to a garden nursery, and I would buy all my flowers, herbs, and vegetable plants. I would come home, and Marty kept an eye on the boys so I could plant my stuff in peace and however I wanted to.
This year my mother is no longer here. This is the first year I haven’t dreaded Mother’s Day for a month before. I could never give her the right gift or anything that she liked or expected.
Picking out a card was a whole other issue for me. I loved my mother when she was alive, and I still loved her now; I just didn’t like the person that she was to me.
All the cards felt phony to me. Some made me almost gag; they were so over the top with sickening shit. Some years it took me close to half an hour to choose one.
One year I came up with a solution to this problem. I would buy a card that said, “Happy Mother’s Day to the women who taught me how to be the mother I am today.”
Of course, this was the first time my mother beamed when she read the card. She didn’t know that she taught me how to be the mother I am today by not doing or saying any of the things she did. I did everything opposite.
This was a good compromise for me since I wasn’t lying by giving her some dripping with sugar card she wanted. It was true, and she perceived it the way she wanted to.
I was never mean or hurt my mother mentally, emotionally, or just for the hell of it. That is not who I am, no matter how upset, broken, or fucked up she made me.
Everything was carefully calculated and premeditated when it came to her actions and words to me. She was not like this to anyone else in the world—only me.
It wasn’t my imagination, or how I took things, Marty and my Aunt Claire, my Godmother, and my mother’s sister saw it happen repeatedly. Just before Aunt Claire passed away she apologized to me, which was the biggest shocker of my life.
She called me and said she wanted to say how sorry she was. She said everyone in the family saw and knew how my mother treated me, but no one ever said or did anything about it.
This was one of the happiest days of my life! I kept saying, “Really? Do you mean it wasn’t me all along? I wasn’t a bad kid or teenager?” She told me I was a good kid, so no one knew why she treated me poorly.
When my Aunt Claire passed away two weeks later, I cherished that conversation she had with me. It was the greatest gift anyone could have given me or will ever give me.
Aunt Claire told me when we hung up, she felt better finally apologizing, but she never knew how important and life-changing that conversation was. It was unbelievable that I finally knew it wasn’t me after all; it was my mother.
It’s still unbelievable to me to this day how fortunate for me that she told the truth shortly before she passed away from complications from her surgery.
Her soul knew what was coming, and she died at peace. Before we hung up, she asked for my forgiveness. I laughed and said, “Oh, stop it; I don’t have anything to forgive; I have to thank you for telling me.”
I honestly didn’t plan to write about my mother or Aunt Claire today and the gift she gave me. I was going to write about the flowers I picked out this afternoon to plant on Mother’s Day.
These raw, emotional posts come out of left field; they start writing themselves. I’ve learned to honor them and let the story pour out. I’ve been holding on to them for a very long time. I am finding it is part of the healing and forgiveness process for me on my journey.
Happy Friday guys!!! Have a great weekend! I will tell you about the flowers I got today next time. 🌺 🌸
***Marty just informed me that Sunday is the second Sunday in May. Boy o boy I did lose track of time!
Twice-baked potato drizzled with Pan Sauce along with Steak Diane & Green Beans Almandine.
Over the weekend, we had some gorgeous sunshine and warm temperatures! It felt fantastic to be sweating while scrubbing our back deck’s railings.
I took out a flat iron steak from the freezer with visions of making grilled flank steak with fresh veggies and a starch. It didn’t happen. Martin invited us over for a pork roast dinner and a game of cards called 5 Crowns which is super fun and addictive. My winning streak came to an end last night.
We always have dinner with Martin when he invites us because he is a chef and cooks excellent food. He is also fun to watch cook; I learn a lot from watching him being a visual learner.
Martin’s wife and my friends Eileen passed away suddenly two years ago. Whenever he invites us, he has a craving for something and would never make it for himself. It’s always last minute, and we rarely have to decline.
Most widows may agree they don’t want to cook a big meal just for themselves. So he cooks for us and others, which is a great deal for us! We always have such a good time while we are at it.
Usually, I cook whatever I had planned to make before his invite the next night. Today is a rainy and nasty day, not suitable for grilling a summer steak and veggies.
I decided to make a trifecta of old-school classics, perfect for a shitty weather day like today.
Last year, I wrote about each of the meal components I made tonight. There is a separate blog post with recipes included.
Older or foodie people always laugh when I mention the names of these dishes, and they always add an “I haven’t thought about that dish for years!” Lol 😂
Mise en place for Steak Diane diced onion, butter, dijon mustard, cognac, Worcestershire sauce, and beef stock.
Steak Diane is one of my major league hitters that is a home run every time. It is Sam’s favorite. His eyes get glossed over when I tell him I am making it. Here is my blog link for Steak Diane if you aren’t sure what it is and want to make it.
I used my grandmother’s cast iron frying to sear and cook the flat iron steak. I have found that cooking steak intimates many people, and it doesn’t have to be.
Before I got good at making steaks both indoors and outdoors, I watched many YouTube chef videos. The biggest fear I had was killing the meat in other words overcooking it and ruining it. We like our steak medium-rare and not well done. Steak is too damn expensive to screw up.
What took the fear away for me was a thermometer. Clever huh? I have no shame using a temp probe to watch the temperature of my steak. All that touching the back of your hand to check for doneness is a bunch of bullshit for home cooks. Seriously, get a thermometer and decide how you like your steaks done.
Checking the temp of steaks.
This is how easy it is. I pull my medium-rare steaks off the grill when it reaches 130-degrees. The steak goes up 5-degrees in temperature after it comes off the grill or out of the pan. A perfect medium-rare steak is 135-degrees. Nailed it!
Rare 120-degrees
Medium-rare 130-degrees
Medium 140-degrees
Medium-well 150-degrees
Well done 160+ degrees
I used to keep my steak on the grill until the thermometer read 135-degrees, and it was always overdone. Once I started pulling it off 5-degrees before I had perfect steak.
Perfect medium-rare steak!
I don’t use this method for poultry or pork. I don’t take it off the grill or out of the oven until it reaches temperature or a bit over. You can’t fuck around with chicken, or everyone will get sick. Chicken must always be cooked to at least 165-degree and for pork 145-degrees.
To go with the Steak Diane, I pulled three twice-baked potatoes out of the freezer I made a couple of months ago. Whenever I make them, I double the recipe for another night, like tonight. The oven does all the work.
People forget about twice-baked potatoes even though everyone goes nuts for them. They are a perfect side dish for steak. Here is the link to Twice Baked Potatoes.
I decided on Green Beans almandine since I had green beans that needed to be used. I was going to quick char them on the grill when I was cooking them outside, but these would do.
Green beans almandine is an old-school veggie side dish that you never see on a plate anymore. It’s a shame because they are easy to make and delicious.
Here’s the Green Bean Almandine post to learn more about them. It’s funny that the post reads a lot like this one; you’ll see if you read it.
I love these dishes, and they are my go-to’s whenever I have the ingredients on hand, and I am not sure what to make.
These old-school classics are just that because everyone loved them, and they were on every restaurant menu back in the day. I like to bring these dishes back and share them with people or, in some cases, introduce them to people.
It’s interesting to think about what current food trends will be considered old-school classics in 40 years. What do you guys think? 🤔
I triumphantly achieved the success of some damn good bbq chicken. It may have been the best bbq chicken I have ever eaten, that’s why I called it dope-ass chicken. Dope=good.
That’s a big, bold statement, but it may be true. I know chicken, and I love chicken. Roasted chicken is one of my favorite dishes; it’s the first thing I would eat after setting foot in Paris.
Bbq chicken and smoked chicken are two different things. We can use the same ceramic smoker grill for both. The difference is using wood or charcoal. Another difference is if you are smoking low and slow or grilling your proteins quickly.
I made smoked chicken thighs at the end of the summer last year, and they came out delicious. I made a sticky & sweet glaze for them, which made them even tastier.
This time I grilled the chicken thighs using lump wood charcoal. We set the grill up with a hot side and a cooler side. This is also referred to as direct and indirect heat.
Since this is all new for me, I researched tons of bbq chicken blog posts and recipes. Everyone has their way when it comes to using a rub or brine. Both are used to add deep flavor to the chicken, not just coasting the skin.
When using a rub, it is applied for several hours or overnight to the chicken. This is called a dry brine; a new cooking terminology for me. I don’t associate the words dry and brine together since they are opposite things.
I had leftover bbq rub so put it in a jar for next time.
The other method of getting flavor into the chicken is brining. Brining poultry is submerging the poultry in a solution of water, salt, sugar, spices, and herbs for 24-48 hours.
I think back to the old days when people’s mothers and grandmothers soaked their poultry in saltwater before baking it. They were brining back then and didn’t even know it. Here comes the but; they baked the living shit out of it, leaving it dry as fuck out of fear of food poisoning.
Brining poultry didn’t become popular until the early 2000s when the magazine Cooks Illustrated introduced and endorsed the brining method. It caught on and became all the rage. After two decades of brining being the golden child, some chefs like Alex Garnaschelli are “over it” even though the internet is flooded with her famous turkey brining recipe.
Kosher salt and sugar are the two main ingredients; they aren’t pictured here with the spices.
I decided to use a rub for the dry brining method for the chicken. I looked up various recipes for chicken rubs and picked one. The one I chose was a home run, so I am glad I went with my instincts.
Here is the link to the rub recipe I used for my chicken even though the title of the recipe is Barbecue Pork Rub Recipe.
I rubbed the rub deep into the chicken thighs on both sides.
I dry brined my chicken for 9 hours which was plenty of time for the flavor to penetrate the chicken thighs.
Out of habit I always write down the time I started a brine in case I forget when doing a zillion things at once.
While the chicken was dry brining, I looked up different bbq sauces recipes. They are millions of them, just to let you know. I filtered through many and decided to make an “old-fashioned” bbq sauce. I didn’t realize there was a difference, but there is.
One blog explained how old-fashioned bbq sauces aren’t cooked like most but have melted butter in them. Butter in bbq sauce may seem a bit odd, but what do I know I am new to this.
I picked the sauce recipe called Old Fashioned Bbq Chicken and Sauce from the blog that explained old-fashioned bbq sauce. After I made the sauce I tasted it, I was surprised by how bright it was. Old fashioned bbq sauces also have lemon juice in them; that’s where the brightness comes from.
For the hell of it, I added the lemon juice last because I wanted to see if it made a difference in the sauce. It made a huge difference! It made the sauce.
Grilling chicken goes fast and can overcook quickly something I didn’t want to happen. I got out the temperature probe so I could keep an eye on things.
The chicken is placed skin side down over the hot direct heat for 3-5 minutes I did 4. I was shocked at how dark the skin got so quickly. One was a little too black, so I took the skin off that piece. It didn’t matter in the end.
The chicken is flipped over the direct heat side for another 3-5 minutes. I did 3 this time.
The chicken is then moved to the other side of the grill to the cooler indirect heat. I had the meat probe set for 175 degrees to make sure the chicken was done all the way through.
The probe goes through the thickness part of the chicken part but away from the bone. I inserted the probe until I hit the bone, then backed it up. I saw that trick on YouTube.
Bbq sauce shouldn’t be applied to the chicken too early, or it will burn from the sugar in the sauce. All my dad’s friends applied theirs too soon ruining the chicken. I hated eating the bitter burned chicken; I ate it though because I had to.😖
I waited until the chicken reached 155 degrees before adding the sauce to one side of the chicken. I let it cook for 10 minutes and flipped it over and brushed the sauce on the other side.
I repeated this a couple of times ending with the skin side up and a final brushing of sauce. I pulled the chicken off when my 175-degree temperature alert went off on the remote.
I let the chicken sit at room temp for 10 minutes to let the juices redistribute themselves. Wow, did this work! The chicken thighs were so moist and juicy. The insides were glistening like Marty’s brisket did. Yum!
Here is my glorious bbq chicken with Mema’s potato salad topped with baked beans (it’s a Jersey thing), a deviled egg, and a Reo Diner Pickle. If you are curious about what a Reo Diner Pickle is, you can read the blog post titled, “Meet me at the Reo” I posted last year. The link is below.
The skin was done just right. Even the one piece that lost its skin at the beginning of the cook tasted perfect because the sauce still coated the skinless chicken thigh like the other ones.
This morning, I ate a piece of cold chicken for breakfast. It was still moist and had a better flavor than two nights before.
So I made dope-ass bbq chicken. The real question is can I do it again? We will see.
