May 25, 2012
It is indicative of the kind of week it’s been that I found this post in my drafts folder, where it had been waiting since Sunday evening for me to upload photos. So, without further ado, but with photos, here ’tis.
I am pleased to report the grill has survived the move. It works.
I have, unfortunately, lost the wire brush with which it gets cleaned, which will necessitate a run to Lowe’s to replace. And I burned a couple of bucks worth of squash via forgetting about them over too-high heat on the grill. But dinner was most excellent, nevertheless.
Child C and I have also run, by my count, nine loads of laundry today. A load of mine, two loads of NS’s, two loads of towels, four loads of hers. And I have another load of towels left, including towels I do not recognize. If you and y’mama ‘n ‘em have lost any towels, come on over and look.
Because it was going to be a busy day, I commenced with a good breakfast, with Child C, who had showed up on my doorstep about 10 a.m. with laundry. And, I hasten to add, I am happy to provide laundry amenities in order to get to spend a lazy Sunday with my baby girl.
So I puttered in the kitchen all day, but for a couple hours out for a Blues Society meeting. (I will note, in a digression, that you and y’mama ‘n ‘em ought to be planning to come to the Spa City over Labor Day weekend. The blues festival is going to be kick-ass awesome, and if you miss it, it ain’t my fault, as you heard it here first. Book your rooms now, as they’re gonna get scarce when it gets closer to time.)
I had picked up tamales at Gusto’s Gourmet Tamales at the Farmers’ Market Saturday. Got two of my fave proscuitto-feta-artichoke heart ones; two poblano-mozzarella ones; and a standard chicken one. (Have to confess, I did not care for the poblano/mozzarella ones; too “green” tasting, the result of eating stuff made with chiles that have been picked before they were ripe. Let that chile get red and be an ancho, and I’m all about it. Same goes for jalapenos and chipotles; jalapenos ain’t got ripe yet. Peppers, with the exception of tomatillos, ought not be green.)
So, I took some leftover French fries from a weekend excursion to Mooyah’s, crisped them in the toaster oven, topped them with a fried duck egg, and warmed up a tamale on the side. Added a caprese to mine, because, well, capreses. Why not?
There were a multitude of things wrong with this breakfast. One, I overcooked the duck eggs; the yolks Did Not Run. Two, the crisped-up potatos had not overnighted well. Three, much as I love Gusto’s tamales, the poblano-mozzarella variety goes in to the “Eh, I think, not so much” category. It tasted distinctly green, and there were crunchy bits involved. All in all, I’ll not go there again, not when there are proscuitto/feta/artichoke versions awaiting.
I’m also thinking an egg over the traditional chicken or pork or beef tamales, with a squiggle of enchilada sauce and maybe some grated cheese and some avocado on the side, would be pretty freakin’ astounding. That may be on the agenda for next weekend.
Anyway, dinner. I had what purported to be a pork shoulder roast in the freezer. Thawed it Saturday, coated it nicely in Rendezvous dry rub, and popped it on the grill about noon Sunday. It lived there until about 6, starting out at about 175 degrees, then moving up to about 225 for the last 3-4 hours. With a periodic mop of barbecue sauce.
Point of interest. I believe that roast to have been much more loin-oriented than shoulder-oriented. It had little fat, and a lot of muscle fiber. Consequently, it cooked up a bit tougher, and a LOT dryer, than a traditional butt from the shoulder would’ve done. Not that it was not excellent — it was. But I sliced it. One ought not be able to slice a pork butt that has been smoked for six or more hours. I’m just sayin’.
Anyway, it was good, and a worthwhile tuneup for next weekend, when we will do chicken halves according to the 40-year-old Benton County Tennessee 4-H Club chicken barbecue specifications. More about that next weekend.
I had new potatos and carrots from the farmers’ market. Tossed those with some olive oil, dished them out onto a baking sheet, sprinkled them with seasoned salt, and slid into a 400-degree oven for 30 minutes or so. Warmed up baked beans from last weekend. Sliced a tomato. Made mac and cheese for the young’uns. Life was good.
So that was Sunday. Monday holds the smoking of salmon, and the consuming of it in some fashion involving cream cheese, crackers and candied fennel. We’ll see what’s out past that. Meanwhile, you and y’mama ‘n ‘em have a lovely week. Mine will be short, and thus even lovelier.