Making up for being remiss, again

July 23, 2013

Brisket win! Finally!

Brisket win! Finally!

I’ve been busy. I’ve been birthday partying, I’ve been house hunting, I’ve been working on a major new project, and I’ve been dinner partying (subject for a later post). But I have indeed been cooking.

Faithful readers may recall the fateful buffalo brisket I bemoaned, after corning it for a week and then attempting to sous vide it for-freaking-ever, and wound up just boiling the damn thing. I had another piece of said brisket frozen, and I fetched it out of Kate’s freezer to fix with some fresh veggies t’other night.

I had brought with me about a cup and a half of West Tennessee 4-H Club barbecue sauce. I browned that brisket well, took it out, an deglazed the pan with onions. Removed those to a dish, plopped the brisket back in, put the onions on top, and stuck the whole thing in a 275-degree oven for about four hours. I fried okra and squash and onions to go with it.

More summer veggie goodness.

More summer veggie goodness.

Another night, it was an all-fresh-veggie dinner — fried corn, okra, sliced tomatoes, speckled butterbeans, cornbread. Who needs meat?

Heirloom tomatoes are well and truly in season. I’ve been buying Cherokee Purples and Brandywines at the Farmers’ Market, and eating them sliced, in salads, with fresh mozz. Sweet corn is in season, and it finds its way into lots of things, like the shrimp and avocado and corn salad. Fresh peaches are in season; we had peach shortcake at the dinner party, along with ratattouille with fresh crookneck, zucchini, eggplant, tomatos.  The piece d’resistance — Well, I’ll hold onto that for now, but it was decidedly into Sweet Baby Jesus territory.

And I made queso for the birthday party, for which Child A made her first decorated cake, which was a most excellent cake and looked right fine for a first decorated cake effort.

Child A's first effort at a decorated cake. I was quite proud.

Child A’s first effort at a decorated cake. I was quite proud.

Tomorrow, or whenever I get around to it — the dinner party. Vodka in the Gladware, and all. You ‘n y’mama’n’em stand by; you don’t want to miss that.

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