FoodiePop

It has been rather gloomy here in Minnesota.  It would normally not bother me, but I have been needing some sunshine and hope. This doom and gloom bullshit is killing me. That being said, I am reading a new book. The Foie Gras Wars How A 5,000-Year-Old Delicacy Inspired The World’s Fiercest Food Fight by Mark Caro. Not the most pleasant reading so far. The animal rights activists are giving me nightmares. Beware. 

I am guilty of not reading as much I would like and what I was reading was pretty craptastic literature. I am engrossed in this book. There will be a pretty lengthy review once I am done, which should be done in a few days. What I will say is that it is turning out to be some enlightening stuff. My mind is on foie gras overload.

So now I have fowl on the brain. I spoke earlier about having purchased some cool proteins at the local Asian market. One of those was quail. Now I am trying to decide a way to prepare them that doesn’t me to require some sort of Michelin chef inspired skill. I wanna go simple and really taste this bird. I implore you wise food and non food readers: What would you do?

There have been a few requests for the pork belly recipe I used that fateful night.  I loosely followed Gordon Ramsey’s pressed belly recipe.  Seeing as how we got the pork from an Asian market rather then a butcher, the piece wasn’t even on all sides.  Wonky, wonky.  Needless to say, pressing the pork belly became kind of impossible for me.  I tried weighing down the pork with every heavy can in the kitchen and it just got too ridonkulous.  Ugh. 

They say the belly shouldn’t sit on the bottom of the pan, so I used some carrots and celery to keep it lifted along with the head of garlic.  Don’t forget to convert the temp from Celsius to Farenheit.  The crispy skin is the best part, so let it sit in the oven for the last stage of cooking till it gets nice and crackly.  Some bubbles will pop up.  Pork rinds… yum.

I hope you like this as much as I did.  It is a fatty dish, but it’s pork belly, live a little.  I am working on doing some Asian dishes with pork belly.  Will keep you posted! 

Recipe from Gordon Ramsey’s the F Word.

Trying new things can be a daunting experience. The fear and apprehension can grip your senses like a vise. Nonetheless, in the past two weeks I done quite a few things for the first time. This juice fast was the first. I posted earlier about the pre fast, but I don’t think I mentioned how great I felt pre fasting. I had clarity of mind and was flying high. A diet of fruit and veg was quite nourishing. Getting into the actual fast was a whole other story…

The diet I am on is outlined from the book JUICE FASTING & DETOXIFICATION by Steve Meyerowitz. He details everything from what to juice you should drink to what equipment to purchase. He gives a realistic take on what your body can handle and the benefits and dangers of such a regime. Now I think I was too cavalier going in to fully grasp what I was doing. Up until then I was stuffing my face full of calories and then BLAMO! a diet of less than 800 calories a day, easy.

The first few days became a blur. I was a juicing machine and the novelty of the whole process kept me going. It wasn’t until my first morning of detox that I hated the world and mostly myself. Through the various green tinged juices I drank, my body was and is cleansing itself. Those toxins gotta come out sometime. I was sweating with fever which would immediately be replaced with a horrible chill. I was too weak to lift my head and I cried a little. Really, little tears came out on the pillow and everything. Beau made me some juice and I fell back to sleep. A few hours later I felt right as rain confusingly enough. The next morning wasn’t as bad, but I was dizzy enough to fall down the damn stairs. The remedy? More (cringe) juice.

Even though the detox has passed, I still have these horrible mood swings. Beau has been dealing with headaches and the occasional grumpiness. As I write this I am on Day 9 and I know I won’t make it much longer. 3 cups of juice a day and a couple of bowls of broth do not a happy girl make me. And let me tell you strained miso and veggie broth has never been so delicious. Both were purchased at an organic shop and when cooked with some cayenne, heaven. Regardless, I’m tired of juicing the parsley, celery, lemon, apple, spinach, carrot… I could go on and on. Although the wheatgrass we purchased looks really cool on the counter. Cleaning that damn machine makes me want to throw it out the window. There is a monotony to my life that I have never experienced before… and it kind of sucks.

Don’t get me wrong, to date I have shed 8 delightful pounds and I feel pretty great right now. I know I got some much needed gunk out of my system, partly in thanks to the colonic, enemas and ear candling I have gone through. More of that in future posts. It has opened my eyes to a world that I think I needed to experience to know that I don’t want to experience it again. Beau always says to me, “It’s not for everyone.” No shit. But I am staying true to my commitment until the urge to murder him has reared it’s ugly head. I would quit if I was starving or going mad, luckily all of those feelings have subsided. I’m taking it one mug of soup at a time, but girl cannot live on miso alone.

I knew it was getting bad when my Beau was rubbing up against me the other night, saying I was like a hamburger and he could cover me in his condiment if I wanted. It was a low point for us, even if he thought it was funny.

image by Arne Mueseler

I don’t know how it happened, but Fabio became my favorite chef last night.  I suppose it has been coming, I love foreign films, so why wouldn’t I love someone who is constantly needing to be subtitled?  He was on the bottom three last night and I almost shit a Vespa waiting to see if he would be eliminated.  I am the first to talk about the cooking on the show and how that should be the most important thing, but when you do a bullshit challenge like a Super Bowl cook off, my heart just isn’t into it.  Regardless, he overcooked his venison and should have been on the chopping block.  Then rewind to when he is on camera talking about being “a 30 year old sleeping in a bunky bed”.  I will never call them bunk beds again.  His mummy is sick and your heart stretched out a bit when he spoke of wanting to win to help pay her physician bills.  It’s like he opens his mouth and fucking puppies are flying out of it.  People like him are what make reality tv great.  You’ve never met anyone like him, but you want to.  He is a competitor, but it hasn’t turned him into the worst version of himself, can’t say the same for the rest of the cast.  Should Fabio not win, someone would be mad not to give him his own show or special.  I would tune in to watch him cook “a monkey arse with bananas in it”.  I don’t even know what he was talking about when he said that.  The subtitles were off.   

That was the highlight of the show for me, that and Carla winning those Super Bowl tics.  

Everything else was pretty meh.  They brought back “All Stars”.  (snort)  Head to head against the remnants of seasons past was pretty anti climatic.  I didn’t remember half of them, other then the ridiculously hyper Andrew and the annoying lad that wears all the hats, Spike.   

The guest judge, Scott Conant, was kind of a twat, but I liked that he had an opinion and stuck to it.  He wasn’t confined to the role of being a “guest” judge.  

I really don’t remember too much of Tom C.  I get more from him reading his blog then on the show. 

Padma was in a referee’s uniform, remember she is a vital member of the judge’s table.  I mean, someone has to keep the score.  It’s like dressing up the hooker before you fuck her in the butt.  

Toby has become, well… limp.  I’m glad he is turning to constructive criticism, but they sold him as some sharp tongued wit.  When is that going to happen?  He is into analogies, right?  Well, Toby Young was like taking a double dose of Viagra.  Just cause it’s hyped up, doesn’t mean it’s really effective at getting the job done, you can’t just stick it anywhere.   We know the medication works, but what happens when it wears off?  What’s left is just a pale, flaccid cock… with glasses.

 
image by Bohman

There is an ABC game going on and brookem assigned me the letter W.   She informed me I was lucky seeing as how it was the last before the letters start to get ridonkulous.  X, Y and Z are going to have to be pretty creative.  Muah ah ah!!

image by stopmangohome

The great thing about cooking shows is getting commentary and info from amazing chefs and professionals.  What the hell is Padma Lakshmi doing on Top Chef?  Is she a chef?  No.  Is she a restaurateur?  No.  Was she in the movie Glitter with Mariah Cary?  Yes.

I understand wanting the host to be a beautiful woman, but to food-centric viewers, that sometimes isn’t enough.  I cringe every time she says something, because I know her opinion doesn’t mean shit to me.  I’ve commented on other blogs of my disdain for her and some think I’m nuts.  Well I’m not a dude and I don’t want to sleep with her.  Why is she a judge?  If she was merely the host I’d shut the fuck up.  But no, she gets to have a say and her say sucks.  The panel is full of people with culinary experience and she peddles I Love Padma t shirts for Bravo.  She is the only judge not to blog on the show on the Bravo site.  I guess dating old millionaires is fucking hard work.  She’s trying to earn a living I suppose. 

The woman has a cook book out.  “Easy Exotic: A Model’s Low-fat Recipes From Around The World”.  Awesome.  Is it just pages of doing coke in foreign countries?  What do models eat?  So when the Top Chef gravy train runs dry, can we expect her on the Food Network?  They seem to like giving shows to just about anyone lately.   

I’m watching Top Chef tonight, I keep hoping one night I’ll tune in and Bravo will have gotten a clue.  I just have to repeat it one more time.  She was in the movie Glitter with Mariah Carey.  Yikes.