Man, I am eating this 3 year-old Quebec white cheddar, and it is fucking awesome. It's like it's raping me, it's so sharp. It's so sharp that it's like it's raping me, just tearing my rectum to pieces. Like I'm all just bleeding and being violently ruined forever.

In my mouth.




Awesome.

So, I took a stab at creating char siu pork. The result was... alright. There were a few problems with it, however:

1. The flavor and color of the sauce didn't penetrate as deeply as I'd have liked. I let it marinade for two hours, but perhaps I should let it marinade overnight next time.
2. I had originally planned to cook it on a grill, but instead cooked it in an oven due to some logistical constraints. I can't help but think it would be a little tastier from the grill.
3. It was too salty. Not overwhelmingly so, but noticeably so, and the saltiness grew on me as I ate it.
4. It was too dry.

The first one I'm completely comfortable with -- first time and all that. The second, eh, it would've gone bad if I'd waited until nice grilling weather when I actually had the time to do it and it wasn't three in the morning, so I'll cut myself some slack. In fact, I'm not even sure how I'd cook it on a grill -- the sauce has... the sauce has, for lack of a better term, the consistency of mucus.

The last two, however, are shameful. They are shameful because they were motivated by pure fear. I was afraid that the sauce wouldn't be salty enough, so I rubbed in some extra salt. I was afraid that the meat wasn't done enough -- even though it looked fine and I knew it was fine -- because the meat thermometer (a tool for cowards if ever there was one) gave me a ridiculously, farcically low reading.

I winced under pressure

Fear is the flavor killer. Never forget that lesson.

I'll tell you something: under my fascist dictatorship fearless leadership, meat thermometers will work accurately and reliably. Upon pain of death.

Really, it's a quality of life issue.

Char siu:

"Char siu" literally means "fork roasted," which is the traditional cooking method for the dish of the same name. Forks hold long strips of seasoned boneless pork in a covered oven or over a fire.

The meat, typically pork shoulder, is seasoned with a mixture of sugar or honey, five-spice powder, soy sauce, red food colouring (optional) and sherry or rice wine (optional). These seasonings turn the exterior layer of meat dark red, not unlike the "smoke ring" of American barbecue.

Char siu is typically consumed alongside a starch, whether inside a bun (cha siu baau), with noodles, or with rice (cha siu fan). The accompaniments served with char siu are strongly influenced by regional variation.

This is the BBQ pork that I love so dearly from our own scrappy Din Ho.

As an aside, one of my personal challenges in Toronto was to find places where I could get a decent meal for at or under C$5. This turned out to be more difficult than one might think. Luckily, I was walking distance from one of Toronto's two (!) Chinatowns, where there were several restaurants where one could get an ample serving of char siu pork on white rice with a pot of tea for right about $5. Man, what a discovery that was.

The other day, I got my hands on a jar of char siu sauce and some pork from the HEB at Parmer & Mopac. I'm gonna take a stab at some roundeye chinese bbq in the next couple of days or so.

Seriously, an omelette.

With spinach and ham and hollandaise (?) -- you know, like at that one place. Kerbey? Magnolia?

Google says: the Benedictine Omelet at Kerbey Lane.

Although frankly, and I truly mean no disrespect, but I'd love to swing by Magnolia, circle 1998.



Too many of my memories are lonelier than they should be.

But the flavors are outstanding.

Colman's Mustard is the greatest mustard in the world. End. Of. Story.

A brilliant idea: crispy beef stew tacos.

"Oh!" you cry out, "Oh, but what about blah blah blah?!"

To which I reply: "No, my friend, you are wrong. Crispy beef stew tacos."

The empirical evidence supporting the proposition that my life is awesome is thus: there is currently gesso spattered on the microwave.

And that's without even mentioning the miso paste on my crotch...

Where in Austin can a dude get a decent Lobster Thermidor?

3.5 lbs boneless carnitas pork
rub with salt
2 large spoonfuls of orange marmalade
1 small jar (~4oz) of chopped or crushed garlic
cover with black pepper and lots of chili powder
1 can guinness to cover
wrap in foil
cook ~2hr. @ 350'F until fork tender.

"The U.S. has banned Vegemite, even to the point of searching Australians for jars of the spread when they enter the country."







Cats hate it...
( Read more... )



Cats love it...
( Read more... )

So I'm sitting around in the Toronto airport. I've gotten no sleep whatsoever the night before, it's 8am, and I just want some damn breakfast before my flight. I get my food, navigate through the chaos in the dining area, find a table, and start eating. After a minute, I notice that there's a police officer standing next to me, talking in a very serious tone to a middle-aged woman. I look down, and there's an unconscious old man lying on the floor. As I continue eating they bring in a paramedic. I take a bite of my sausage. They bring a defibrillator. I eat a piece of bacon. Another paramedic drives in on an emergency cart. I eat some eggs. A couple of other police officers arrive. I take a bite of toast. The officer is taking down the woman's contact information. I eat some home fries. He consoles her, reassuring her that it will be okay. On and on and on, not but five feet to my right. I'm half-conscious and hungry and on a schedule so I keep eating, although I feel progressively more and more guilty as I do so. Finally I throw away the rest of my food and head to my gate. They were loading him onto a stretcher as I left.

It was an extremely disturbing breakfast.

Strange dreams last night. I received a visit from someone I used to know. It was sad, but also sadly reaffirming. In an unrelated dream, the universe decided to get all pissy about how long some of this shit was taking me. At first I was kind of intimidated by its attitude, but I eventually began to see through it and I woke up telling it off. This shit takes a long as it takes, and the universe had better learn some fucking patience. I also managed to piss off Vince Lombardi, but I contend that he was just being a tightass. I brought his truck back in the shape that I got it in, and if he's too much of a dick to acknowledge that then that's his problem.

Today is my last full day in T.O. I've been here just long enough that it doesn't feel quite new anymore. I've got a routine and the streets are small now, and that means that it's probably time to move on. I spent most of yesterday wandering the city, taking a couple hundred photographs, having a beer, dancing and singing a little. I also finally tried lupini beans and Korean walnut cakes, both of which are remarkably tasty. Toronto is an amazing city -- beautiful, crazy, friendly, dense but open, cool but homey -- but I can't wait to get back to Austin, and my gal, and the lot of you. I'm a lucky man. I have a wonderful life back home, and I miss it.

My last two breakfasts have consisted of peameal, coffee, and toast with Vegemite. It really is a spectacular breakfast. While admittedly too high in salt, it's a light and flavorful and invigorating meal, and seems to ease the recovery from a hangover.

Today I finally tried peameal for the first time. It's the same cut of meat as what we in the States call "Canadian bacon," but subtly different. Better, I'd say, but again, subtly so.

Also, get a couple of beers in me, and I can belt out the classics with the best of them. What I lack in artistic finesse I make up for in spirit, my brothers and sisters.

Canadia -- or at least Toronto -- is a damn fine place, full of damn fine people. A very big part of that, of course, is what you bring and who you go with, but part of that really is where you go. I have absolutely no plans whatsoever to ever live here -- it just doesn't feel right -- but I certainly wouldn't mind if, through some dark quirk of fate, I had to. It really is a fine place.

I've been up here for just over a month, and it feels like a very long time, but I expect the next couple of weeks to go by very quickly indeed. I expect to spend a few days in the sweet embrace of my lady, but after that, we really should get together for a beverage or two. I'll miss this place, and I'll be sad to leave, but I can't wait to see Austin again. I miss it -- and y'all -- dearly.

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Mechanically separated meat
(Redirected from Mechanically separated chicken)

Mechanically separated meat (MSM), also known as mechanically recovered meat (MRM) is a paste-like and batter-like meat product produced by forcing beef, pork or chicken bones, with attached edible meat, under high pressure through a sieve or similar device to separate the bone from the edible meat tissue. Mechanically separated meat has been used in certain meat and meat products since the late 1960s. This product can be contrasted with meat extracted by advanced meat recovery systems.

The act of mechanically harvesting meat that would otherwise be unusable dates back to the 1950s when mechanical hand tools were developed to help remove these scraps and minimize waste. By the 1960s, machines were developed that did this more efficiently and automatically. This allowed companies to cheaply bulk up or extend their products and in turn offer these products to the public for a lower price.

Questions arose in the 1980s as to the safety of mechanically separated meat. In 1982, a report published by FSIS on mechanically separated meat said it was safe and established a standard of identity for the food product. Some restrictions were made on how much can be used and the type of products in which it can be used. These restrictions were based on concerns for limited intake of certain components in MSM like calcium. Mechanically separated meat must be labeled as "mechanically separated beef or pork" in the ingredients statement. Hot dogs can contain no more than 20% mechanically separated beef or pork.

Concerns were brought about again when the BSE (Mad Cow Disease) epidemic was discovered in the United Kingdom in 1986. Since bits of the spinal cord (the part most likely to be carrying BSE) often got mixed in with the rest of the meat, products using mechanically separated meat taken from the bodies of bovines were at higher risk for transmitting BSE to humans. As a result, in 1989 the United Kingdom tightened restrictions to help ensure that pieces of the spinal cord would not be present in mechanically separated meat taken from bovines.

Today, the use of mechanically separated meat taken from bovines has declined. Most mechanically separated meat is now made up of chicken or pork and is used to bulk up or "extend" a variety of other meat products.

Mechanically Separated Poultry

Mechanically Separated Poultry (MSP) is a paste-like or batter-like poultry product produced by forcing bones, with attached edible tissue, through a sieve or similar device under high pressure to separate bone from the edible tissue. Mechanically separated poultry has been used in poultry products since the late 1960s. In 1995, controversy in the USA was addressed by a final rule on mechanically separated poultry that it is safe and can be used without restrictions. However, it must be labeled as "mechanically separated chicken or turkey" in the product's ingredients statement. The USDA's final rule became effective November 4, 1996.

Hot dogs can contain any amount of mechanically separated chicken or turkey. Mechanically separated chicken is also a prime ingredient in Slim Jims.

See also:

Meat slurry is a liquefied meat product

I got a webcam, so now Ms. B and I can do the whole lookin' at each other thing. I like it! I like lookin' at Ms. B.

I believe I am starting to get a cold.

I have figured out how to make fairly cheap noodle bowls that are tasty and nutricious and healthy. Throw some bouillon, diced onion, and garlic into a pot of water. Heat. While the water's heating, dice some tofu and break up some spinach with your fingers. Once the water boils, throw in a small nest of lo mein noodles. Stir until it starts to break up, then throw in the tofu and spinach and some Emeril's Original Essence spice mix. Try not to think about the phrase "Emeril's Original Essence." Stir occasionally. It'll probably take a while for the noodles to get al dente, maybe ten minutes, maybe longer -- you can spend that time brewing coffee, brushing your teeth, whatever your action-packed life demands. Season to taste with soy sauce or whatever. Takes about 10 or 15 minutes total, but it's worth it. If you're vaguely clever, you can get away with using one pot to cook and one bowl for both prep and eating, so it's easy to clean up.

Hey, I didn't say it was rocket science.

After a week and a half, Toronto isn't as novel as it first was. Quelle surprise! It remains, however, awesome.

For example, there's a street with a jillion little electronics and computer shops just about three or four blocks from my house.

That street intersects a few blocks down with another street that is basically one of the area's two Chinatowns. It goes on for blocks and blocks with a bunch of eateries with bbq pork and roasted ducks hanging in the windows. Endless stores crammed with wicker and rattan. And baby, if want an over-sized, $10 decorative wall-fan, they have got your hookup.

A few blocks to the north there's a sort of Koreatown, just a jillion Korean noodle shops with a bunch of dishes I've never heard of before. A number of groceries, karaoke bars, and internet cafes loaded with Asian kids playing online games.

Lot of English-style pubs. Good fish and chips and whatnot, and a few places that even have a decent curry. I haven't found any places yet that have a *crappy* curry, though, or anything like a ploughman's or a sausage sandwich or other similar horrors, so they're not quite authentic on that count.

I realize I'm talking a lot about food here. This is in large part because I like food. Take heart in the fact that I have met a number of people, some who seem really cool, and some who annoy the living fuck out of me. Most people fall into the former category. Thankfully, all of my housemates fall into the former category.

Ms. B is currently doing something on the couch! I can't really tell what, though it looks vaguely like she's threading something.

Dealing with people, especially new people, is actually remarkably difficult for me. I have basically a love-hate relationship with people. There have been ups and downs so far, but on the whole things seem to be working out.

I may drink a beer in a little while.

This is how he was prepared. Then we used his succulent flesh to make delicious Cuban sandwiches.

We celebrated Thanksgiving this year with Brieann's mom's new boyfriend's family. We had a great time and a great meal, but we ate only moderate portions and didn't take any leftovers with us. Now, that might be fine for some people -- in Russia -- but this is America, and this was American Thanksgiving, the holiday that, as they say, celebrates what Americans do better than any other country: eat too much. This situation demanded action.

So, Brieann and I went out and bought a 16lb (17lb? 18lb?) turkey. We brined it in a fairly simple brine with some lemons, cinnamon bark, pepper corns, and chinese cooking wine, and we brined it in -- I kid you not -- a ziploc bag large enough to hold a child. Disturbingly enough, that was one of the smaller ones; they now make bags large enough to hold vacuum cleaners. No longer content with being the container of choice for severed fingers and tongues, Ziploc has apparently realized that its destiny lies in selling full-size transparent, resealable body bags. I shudder to think of what they might know about the future that we don't...

Anyway, um, the brine. So, we began this project as we begin all of our new culinary projects: after midnight. We could have prepared the turkey the next day, I suppose, but to hell with that, so we cooked it a day later, which gave the turkey nearly two solid days to marinate and which also happened to be today. It took about an hour longer than I thought it would take to cook, which kind of freaked me out, but it seemed to turn out okay. I tasted a small bit of skin while I was waiting for the bird to cool and was profoundly terrified by how salty it tasted. Afraid that I had overbrined it I waited in abject horror for twenty minutes for it to cool, and then tore it apart to get a taste.

Thankfully, it was pretty good. It's salty -- almost, almost too salty -- but it still tastes pretty good. Some of the white meat could be a little more tender, but on the whole it's quite tender and moist. The skin and fat are remarkably salty, but there's not much of those so they actually kind of work out as accents to the meat. My attempts at carving it amounted to a feeble hatchet job, but we're not serving this to prissy old Texas society ladies so I think we'll be fine. All in all, not bad for the first turkey that either of us have cooked. Then I decided to take a stab at making gravy, and, um, I think it's really quite good. It's a little rich, but not too rich, and I made it significantly peppery, which I like, without going over the top. I kind of underestimated how much gravy the recipe would make, though, and decided to bump it up a little, so we now have a couple of quarts of gravy in the fridge alongside two large plates of white meat, one heaping plate of dark meat, and one foil-wrapped carcass. I also have plans for sides -- in particular, sort of a turkey fried-rice stuffing-workalike, and possibly some manner of sweet yet starchy things -- but those can wait for a day or two until the novelty of having a shelf full of meat and gravy wears off. All told, I figure that gives us a few days of leftovers before we freeze them and have sporadic thanksgiving leftovers throughout the winter.

But the best part, the very best part is that I didn't finish preparing all of this until about 4am, so there's been no principal meal with this food. It's all leftovers. They were leftovers the minute I took 'em out of the oven. We have prepared nearly twenty pounds of pure leftovers. And that, frankly, is what *I'm* thankful for this year.



Aaaaaand, just to round things out, here are ten myths about Thanksgiving. I know that wikipedia agrees with at least one of 'em, so, y'know, they all must be true.

This is one of the most awesome recipes ever. It combines significant flavor, near-total convenience, and mortal danger. What more is there to cooking than that?

Dulce de leche (or cajeta) is a rich caramel cream sauce. It's used in a lot of desserts from Mexico, Central and Southern America, and Europe, and is also pretty tasty as a sauce or on its own. So how to make it? Well, there are a lot of recipes with a lot of variations, but it's really just milk with carmelized sugar. Now, there are a lot of ways to do that, but what's the easiest way to get ahold of milk with sugar? Sweetened condensed milk. What's the quickest way to cook something? Pressure cooking. So...

Grab one (or more) cans of sweetened condensed milk. *Leaving the can unopened*, strip the label off, throw the can in a pot, cover it with water, and boil it. Boil it at a decent simmering boil for 1-1/2 to 2 hours if you want a sauce, 4 hours or so if you want it thicker like a custard. Of course, the contents are going to be under pressure and could, technical, you know, explode, so if you love your kitchen or the bodies of yourself or others then you'll want to keep a wary eye on it. If the can starts distending you should take it off the heat immediately and give it a while to cool (I keep a pair of barbecue tongs on hand to periodically pull it out and examine it.) If you want to play it safe you can poke a hole in the top of the can and put less water in the pot (so as not to cover the can) but that'll take longer to cook. When you're done, take it off the heat and give it a while to cool down. If you're in a hurry you can submerse the can in room-temperature water for a minute or two to cool it off enough to be manageable -- the contents will remain warm, naturally. Open it carefully with a can opener, and you're off to the races!

The result should be a tan or brownish color, and should be wickedly tasty. This recipes makes one (or more) can-sized amount of dulce de leche. That's one serving if you're in some mad race to become a diabetic, or about a million servings if you're sane. Enjoy!


Taken from here.