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Editors Note: As my friend Evo Diva is into biology and all that crazy science/animal shit, I’m not surprised that she sent me a meal consisting of shoving something up a chicken’s ass. I mean when you spend your days studying fish fucking, nothing can really bother you in the kitchen.
Since my usual weeknight meal consists of a salad, stir fry, or grilled cheese, I like to take Sunday to prepare a heartfelt home cooked meal. When searching the freezer last Sunday, I came across a small whole chicken desperately in need of cooking.
I had purchased this with the intent to shove it full of the usual stuffing and serve it with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. But with the holidays only two months behind us, I was still sick of that typical fowl prep. With summer right around the corner, I was longing for a backyard with a grill but alas, not even a balcony adorns this condo in the burbs.
Needless to say, I was at a loss for how to cook this neglected bird. A call home to small-town Pennsylvania (where the public schools get a day off for the first day of deer hunting season) was in order. Mom suggested my dad’s newest specialty: “Now that we have an empty nest, you wouldn’t believe what we have time to do!”
If you haven’t had the pleasure of shoving a can of beer into the body cavity of a chicken, you don’t know what you’re missing . Combining the ultimate food staple with the ultimate beverage staple: It’s brilliant! Dad got me started with this one but I made my own adjustments; his are striked-out (don’t be mad!)
It’s been a long time since I have actually written more than one sentence for this blog, so bear with me here.
The picture above was our dinner last night. I’d like to be able to take credit for that juicy, golden chicken filled with creamy spinach, goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and tons of garlic, but I can’t. I can take credit, however, for those soggy greens on the plate!
After the jump, the story of how to turn Monday into a real, bona fide cooking night…
You know those Hungry Man commercials. It’s like, oh, only wussies eat salad or whatever. Okay, that was a bad impression, but I think you know what I’m talking about. The whole notion that MEN need a pound of food is sexist and unhealthy. Not to mention completely fucking wrong.
So it was nice to see Men’s Health feature the 20 worst foods found in restaurants, plus suggestions for alternatives. Vanity is in.
Photo: Scritchy Pictures
Editors Note: ES first heard of Evo Diva through my journey to another world, but I’ve known she’s been a food enthusiast for much longer. Enjoy her peer-reviewed rant.
As a non-evangelical tree hugger, I feel a quiet sense of responsibility to convert to vegetarianism. After all, over half of the water and over 70% of the agricultural production in the U.S. is put toward raising livestock. As with most things, America’s consumption has gotten out of control. Besides, cows are just so damn cute – what did they ever do to deserve the slaughterhouse?
However, as an evolutionary biologist, I know that our species is not at its supreme fitness when sustained on a diet lacking in animals. If veggies don’t do their homework, they might not be getting essential B12 and D vitamins that are easily obtained from meat. Vitamin D is important for calcium absorption and strong bones. B12 is important in proper brain function. Other studies have shown that infants nursing from vegan mothers will not develop properly. Our ancestors might have subsisted on fruits and nuts, but our species evolved on the motto: “Variety is the spice of life.” While our teeth structure still is best suited for fruits, our most striking difference from other animals is our brain size. Along with B12, protein is essential for neurological development. A likely scenario is that our ancestors were obtaining new sources of protein in animal food options and were able to grow larger brains.
So what’s a hippie like me supposed to do? While true vegetarians agree that going halfway doesn’t count, I would argue that it is my only option. Choosing cage-free eggs, free range meat, and eating vegetarian 4-5 days of the week is my way of reconciling this inner conflict and pissing off people on both sides of the fence.
Fried chicken, cheeseburger, Casear salad? That is what DC’s premier chef, Michel Richard, the knives behind acclaimed Citronelle, dares to offer in his new bistro, Central? Well, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Bread crumbs lay delicately over two moist pieces of chicken, more a sprinkling of rain than a slather of sleet; it’s even better when dipped in creamy mustard sauce and scooped into the same bite with pulverized garlic mashers. Ground chuck has never been so French in a burger that’s as rich as brie, served with fries and mayo. And the Casear salad, tossed with goat cheese and diced tomatoes, surprises with taste and convenience: the lettuce is cut into bite-sized forkfuls. For dessert, inhale the adult version of a Kit Kat bar to complete a prized meal.
For: A French chef’s take on Americanized French food
Entrees: $16-$29. 202-626-0015. 1001 Pennsylvania Ave
Originally in the Onion / DC local edition
Photo: LA Times
My friend Tucker and I visited some friends in Manhattan a couple of weekends ago. It was a meeting of DC-transplants, as no one seems to settle in this transient city. So while we were all together, and with JH living so close to the Union Square farmers market, we decided to make dinner.
Most of our friends are students, including the gracious host, so we knew we didn’t need to impress — beans on toast would have done! But JH is a stickler for “etiquette” - it had to be seasonal fare with absolutely no repeat dishes. We started planning the menu a few days in advance, with a few options in mind (farmers markets can be unpredictable.)
Our key ingredients were onion, beets, leeks and pheasant. We cooked three pheasants, which we named Judy, Angela and Patrick. Yes, we’re a little loopy.
I mentioned in the comments of a previous posting that I wanted to cook a dish around Jerusalem Artichoke and up until this trip I had never even seen the damn vegetable. Clearly, it was going to be an interesting feat. We named this the “Challenge of the Chosen Choke!”
Dinner to feed ten… See menu after the jump.
Obviously you have to make sweet and sour sauce to go with it. Not only was my boss headed out of town for the week, but she was kind enough to leave me with her leftover pineapple. Needing to come up with a way to use a large quantity of soon-to-spoil fruity goodness, I turned to my wok for inspiration.
Recipe and more inspiring photos just a click away…
The former foodie frontrunner wonders what he failed to eat.
The presidential campaign is heading into its biggest day yet, and across the board, the candidates are still ignoring the food vote. We’ve said goodbye to Rudy Giuliani, whose brave attempts to eat his way into power were thwarted when his ill-conceived strategy to bring out the Florida Jews ended in a miserable failure. At least one foodophile is ready to speak the hard truth: he should have gone more Ashkenazi.
Yet the remaining candidates have left this blog’s editorial board uninspired. Seriously people, Thailand has already made history by placing the “Thai Emeril” at the seat of government, is it so much to ask for some statements on your caviar policy? If this keeps up, we may have to start a Draft Bourdain campaign. Or at least Carol Mosely Braun.
While these shortcomings are depressing, we feel compelled to give you a few more updates on the field, given the enormity of today’s contests:
I’m sure you noticed, but ES did not take part in any New Year’s resolution crap. Know what 80 and I did New Year’s Day - we sat at a bar and drank, went to dinner and drank, went to another bar and drank, and then went home and drank. There were no salads involved and the only exercise we got was stumbling from place to place.
Sure, I used to make a resolution. Same one every year, in fact - lose ten pounds. I’m old now, though. I’m done resolving. But, as I still live in America, with ab-fucking-surd standards for women, I’m forced to eat right sometimes and work out once in a while.
Pictured above is my first healthy meal of 2008. Recipe is post jump.
It’s cold out. That means a few things here in the nation’s capital: false predictions of snow, networking functions disguised as holiday parties, and the seasonal closing of farmers’ markets. While the first two remain hallmarks of D.C., there is hope for the District foodologist (the term “foodie” is sooo over)—historic Eastern Market (7th and C Sts., open Tues.-Sun.).
When a better part of the South Hall—the area designated for food vendors—burned earlier this year, shoppers were saddened by the loss of both the community dwelling and the delicious crab cakes from the Market Lunch. Luckily, with the help of many devoted advocates, including federal and local elected officials (they can create change!), Eastern Market’s food vendors continue to sell their goods in the newly created East Hall.
The interior of the market conveys a different feel now: The bright white walls, floor, and ceiling of the new structure is in stark contrast to the original dingy-yet-homey atmosphere. Fortunately, much of the food remains the same, with fresh produce and unusual cuts of meat. So while D.C. collectively holds its breath until spring for the rest of the region’s markets to reopen, check out what the Market’s top vendors have to offer in their new digs:
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