More Exciting Things to Do with Bacon, and Miscellany

There are two kinds of people in the world, the ones who complain that fish tastes fishy, and the ones that think tuna salad is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Which is another way of saying that lunch made me happy.  

Meanwhilst, after intense discussion, in which many epithets were floated as possibilities, and some laws as unchangeable as those of the Medes and Persians were laid down ("absolutely nothing with 'chicken' in it"), JVW has a new nickname on this here blog. She will not be known as Xuan De (even though it means 'righteous virtue'), nor will she be known as Biker Chick, Evil Cajun Twin, nor yet Optimistic Gardener.  And she insists that Squid Girl is an honor that I should keep to myself.  Instead, she will be henceforth referred to as Bird (as in Isabella, the nineteenth century travel writer, and also a category of vertebrates she gets quite excited about), until I decide that really I can do better. 

Not only that, but Bird has contributed an explanation of one of my all time favorite appetizers to this blog.


Bacon Wrapped Dates as Explained by Bird

All you do is get dates of moderate size, not those great huge ones.  (At least, if you used the huge dates you’d probably need a whole slice of bacon per date, which would make a big mouthful that would be difficult to bite.  The smaller dates are easier to eat.)  Then you cut slices of bacon in half (so that you have two short strips, not two long skinny strips).  You wrap a date in a half-slice of bacon and secure it with a toothpick.  When you have wrapped all you want to cook, you put them on a broiler pan under the broiler.  In my oven, they are usually crispy-looking after about 10 minutes, when I then turn them over for another 10 (but you would want to watch them carefully, what with variations in broilers and potential variations in distance between broilers and dates).

Then you take just a bit of butter, like perhaps as much as a tablespoon if you have used up the whole pound of bacon, and less butter for less.  Sprinkle in some garlic powder and squeeze in a bit of lemon, then microwave till the butter is melted and drizzle it over the dates.  And voila, bacon-wrapped dates of profound yumminess and pleasure.  Just as good microwaved the next morning. [Or cold if you're running short on time, and need to get to work in an expeditious fashion. -- SE]

A Minor Offering

1)The Tall Guy characterizes the following as "a funny read, with astonishing revelations about what Allen Ginsberg ate for breakfast". I would characterize it as a funny read with hilarious discussion of unexpected gastropods. I was raised by granola smoking hippies and very little surprises me in the way of breakfast food. These two facts are not unrelated. Either way, fun: The Meal That Ended My Career as a Restaurant Critic.

2) I cannot blame the following link on my altitudinally enhance friend, but I think it's awesome: T-shirt of Awesome.

3) JVW should start a blog, because I keep wanting to post snippets of her emails.  Today she is trying to convince me that YouTube stardom is around the corner, if I just coupled my dubious singing and, I also assume, her considerably less dubious singing with carefully chosen pictures of chickens. She also shared some unorthodox experiences of the apple harvest (such as it is) in Anchorage.  The thing about Anchorage's growing season is that it is short but intense, and when apple trees are blooming elsewhere there is still snow on the ground here.  This does not make for happy apple trees, although there are few optimistic souls, and hardy trees that make the attempt. 

4) Biological accuracy about charismatic megafauna is important to me, even if the megafauna in question is shy and retiring in the forests of central Africa.  In other words, an okapi is not an antelope.  Other than that, I do recommend The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, even though I am probably just about the last person to read it. I blame the author's interview I heard on NPR about his second book.  Too much adultery in suburbia, without a really strong narrative voice to balance it out.  This has adultery in suburbia, but it also has a reasonably well done Autistic narrator.

5) Because one needs more beautiful astronomy: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-14792580

New Challeges

This evening I ate latkes for the first time.  They were imperfect, based on a hazy recall of a recipe, and made by three totally drained people.  They were delicious, and certainly they fed me body and soul.

Now I need to make them.  I have these wild ideas about sweet potato latkes with chile verde and lime cilantro sour cream.

More importantly I have leftovers.

It occurs to me that part of the essential character of the evening hinges on my interpretation of J telling me that I ought to bring a baking potato for each person and maybe one extra.  I asked what sort of potato to buy, and she said that she didn't know but probably a baking potato.

I showed up with five potatoes therefore.  Five large potatoes. Almost twice the amount of potato that J thought she was asking for.  There were a stupendous number of pancakes on the table tonight.  Only a stupendous number of pancakes could have ensured that there were leftovers.  Four hungry adults can eat a lot of latkes.

Oh, this is nice!

Still Life with Shrimp, Vincent Van Gogh

In a fit of something or other early last week it seemed the thing to invite Jackie up to spend the night and invite a new friend of seemingly compatible temperament over for dinner with us after I dragged Jackie to the church that I am tentatively beginning to think of as mine. 

It was a good incentive to clean.  So I cleaned.* And then Sunday afternoon, I realized that I had no idea about what I was feeding my two unsuspecting dinner guests.  Except that I definitely did not want to cook another pot of soup or unending casserole, and quiche would take too long after we arrived hungry after church.
I decided that the least I could do was make pizza dough.  Either I'd make pizza or bake it as bread with dinner.  I threw the first stage of pizza dough together and set it aside to rise. 

Then I stared into the depths of the freezer, hoping that I would discover inspiration.  Instead I discovered  most of a bag of frozen spinach.  Somewhere back in the primordial ooze of my mind, a memory stirred.

"Hey M, how do you make that spinach and scallop thing?" 

M is not so big on recipes, but she is a damn good cook.  She thought for a minute  and said, "well, first I take some bacon..."

I groaned a little bit, for one of my guests does not eat dead mammal generally speaking, and turkey bacon does not cut it in the delicious fat department.

"... and if I want a bit of crunch I sprinkle some pine nuts on top.  But the bacon is what really makes it."

I thought longingly of the spinach and scallop thing, and decided that I could sub some olive oil and butter for the bacon grease, and walnuts for the pine nuts.** So I hustled off to the nearest grocery store.  The closest QFC appears to be a grocery store,  but manages to thwart me every time I go in.  This time they did not have the tiny sweet sea scallops of my dreams***.  Sea scallops are relatively cheap and insanely delicous.  Instead, they had great hulking bay scallops for much more than I wanted to spend.  Not having time to run to the either of the larger grocery stores nearby I resorted to some midsized shrimp.  And a lemon.

I got back, and did the stage two things to the pizza dough and shoved it into the fridge to wait.

That evening we feasted.  The pizza dough became a focaccia-like substrate to the not-really-actually-M's-spinach-and-scallop-thing-at-all.  We crumbled feta on top and washed it all down with mugs of tea and glasses of water, and it was wonderful and homey and filling.  For some reason we spent quite a lot of time discussing the literary uses of the Seven Deadly Sins.   

Here are the particulars such as they are.  I confess that I was not measuring anything too strictly for this endeavor.  I could make pizza crust in my sleep, and almost the only ingredient I measure is the water at the beginning.


Pizza Crust or Fake Focaccia

This recipe takes time.  At least a couple of hours.  If you're hungry, but have your heart set on homemade pizza, make yourself a snack before proceeding further.  

Combine in 1 c. tepid water
1 tsp sugar
1Tbsp yeast (or roughly one packet if one does not buy yeast by the jar)
if it foams up in ten minutes or so, then it's usable. If it
doesn't you're probably better off putting yeast on the shopping list
and ordering pizza.

Stir in 1 1/2 c unbleached flour (try to keep the flour to a minimum,
you can always add more if necessary -- this does reflect my prejudice
towards a thinner crust)
optional 1/2 tsp crushed dried rosemary (parmesan cheese, oregano,
and or basil are also good, but I tend towards rosemary because the
other things end up in the toppings)
Stir until flour (and any other additions) is combined.

Go do something else for 45 - 60 minutes. I tend to lean towards the longer rise time

Stir in 1/2 c more of flour (more if the dough is especially wet, as it sometimes is)
1/4 c olive oil
1 tsp salt.

Knead for three minutes or so until the dough is thoroughly mixed and
springy.

Here we come to a choice. At this point, one can cover the bowl and stick it in the fridge, and leave it there for a few hours or a day or so. Or one can go on to the next bit straight away. The texture is better for the long rest in the fridge, but it's not necessary.

Pour a bit of oil in the bottom of the mixing bowl. Turn
the dough over to coat it with oil.

Oil an appropriate pan and sprinkle it with
corn meal to discourage sticking. Brush off excess cornmeal.

If one is making pizza, attempt to follow these instructions. Form the dough into a round blob. Attempt to stretch it into a disc
about six inches in diameter. Place this in the center of the pan,
working from the center out stretch the pizza dough until it fills the
pan. Try to maintain an even thickness, pinch tears together. The
terminal morrain of crust forms naturally as you work towards the
edge.

Go back to ignoring the dough. This is a good time to turn on the
oven. Turn it on to it's highest setting (probably 500 or 550). By
the time it's done preheating, the 20-30 minute second rise should be
done. This is also a good time to make the sauce if you are going to make one.

Place the pizza somewhere in the upper half of the oven. Leave it
there for 5 minutes.

Top the thing.

Bake it for 10-12 minutes (long enough for the cheese to melt and get
bubbly). Serve it to a grateful public.

OR you can skip making pizza, and instead pat out the crust into a round or rectangle about half an inch thick and cook at 450 for 15-20 minutes or until golden on top.

Sauteed Shrimp and Spinach

(Not M's amazing Spinach and Scallop thing really, but pretty wonderful all the same)

This comes together fast enough that one can pretty much do the entire thing while the fake focaccia is in the oven.

1 Tbsp Olive oil
1 Tbsp Butter
1 half large onion
1 shallot
1 1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 pound shell on shrimp
frozen spinach, I think it was at least a cup and a half, maybe two
1/2 cup walnuts chopped
Juice of half a lemon (about a 1/4 cup -- it was a large lemon)
1/2 tsp salt
loads of black pepper

Heat the olive oil and butter together in a large skillet over medium heat.

Chop the onion and shallot, and talk a friend into peeling the shrimp.

Add the onions, shallot, and garlic to the skillet. 

Defrost the spinach in the microwave after discovering that it had not thawed as much as you had hoped while you were at church. 

Stir the alliums occasionally, while you try to make conversation with your guests.

When the alliums are translucent, add the shrimp.  Flip the shrimp occasionally, so that they cook evenly, but keep an eye on things, for over cooked shrimp are sad. 

When the shrimp are nearly cooked, but still have translucent bits, add the spinach and the lemon juice.  Stir frequently for a couple of minutes while the extra spinach juice cooks off.  Salt and pepper.

Oh it was good. 

*Cleaning at one point involved staring in dismay at the slurry of water and crumbs that resulted after I knocked both my toaster and electric kettle off the cart where they ordinarily reside.  It wouldn't have been so bad, except that I had been moving the cart in order to mop under it.  I looked at the mess, and thought about crying, while I muttered, "This is why I suck at housekeeping. I only make things worse."  And then I went and got the towel that impersonates a bath mat, and sopped up the water and crumbs and remopped the floor. 

**Something of a dice roll, since I am periodically sensitive to walnuts and pecans, but I had been avoiding both for a couple of months, and decided to risk it since I did have a freezer well stocked with nuts from before the last time my body decided that tree nuts were evil. 

***If shrimp are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy; scallops are doubly so.

Poor Kerouac!

I was doing dishes.  Jackie, who was pretending to be a guest, was wandering around the kitchen and had come to rest before the refrigerator.  She was reading the things stuck there on.

"I don't know how I feel about exploding spiders."

I looked up from scrubbing the cookie sheet on which I had baked the evening's bread.  Jackie was reading the Jack Kerouac magnet, the one that reads:

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...

"They're metaphorical spiders."

"I know, but I'm still not sure I like the image."

I thought about it for a moment and concluded that I was at peace with the image.  "Exploding spiders will never be in my hair."

Jackie is a more compassionate and enlightened person than I am (AND she reminds me, she used to work at a zoo), "there are lots of things that spiders can do that are not exploding or in your hair."

I once found a spider in my hair.  It was horrifying.  "but exploding spiders will NEVER be in my hair."

I'd like to think that my position re: exploding spiders, metaphorical or otherwise, is unassailable, but I have a feeling that Jackie may have the moral high ground here.

And since I haven't fallen over yet...

I guess I'll write a bit more about things food. I will probably come back tomorrow and discover my prose loaded with homophone errors and incoherent.

As mentioned previously, I was running on very little sleep, and I was an easy target when La Peliroja suggested we go down to the culinary arts program's Bistro for lunch. The Bistro is apparently what CA fondly believes that fast food ought to be.  Yes, food arrived rapidly, but trout almondine, Brussels sprouts, and something that may have been a timbale  -- it was definitely divine -- for six dollars are the apotheosis of the idea of a value menu.  That was La Peliroja's lunch.  I NEEDED coffee, and intended to eat my chicken sandwich later, so I ordered a cappuccino, and then upon intolerable temptation a chocolate hazelnut brioche -- my snack was both perfect and cost less than a mocha at Starbucks.*

The portion of trout almondine along with everything else on on La Peliroja's plate was heroic.  She offered to let me help her with it.  I helped in a helpful fashion.  It was perfect -- so perfect that I liked it even though trout is a fresh water fish. (Browned butter and lemon makes up for most things.  Crunchy almonds don't hurt either)  The probable timbale too got shared.  Then I was eyeing my companion's Brussels sprouts.**  I asked her, "may I taste the Brussel sprouts?"

She looked down at her plate and looked at me, than back at her plate.  "I'm feeling kind of territorial, but I suppose I could let you have that one," she said pushing one of the smaller ones towards me. 

"I'm sorry," she said, "but these are so good." 

When I finished thoughtfully chewing my sprout, I had to give my wholehearted though sad assent to her territoriality.  Fortunately disaster was averted when more sprouts were discovered beneath the giant fillet of trout (there may well have been a half pound of fish on that plate), so I got to have another. 


*I do not expect cappuccinos in America to be perfect.  I'm always delighted when I'm taken by surprise.  This was one of the delightful surprises.  There may have been moaning upon my first sip.

**With apologies to William Carlos Williams. 

so much depends
upon

a green Brussels
sprout

flecked with black
pepper

beside the trout
almondine.