Backyard Eggs

There are tons of hippies in Portland with nothing better to do than smoke reefer and play in their backyard. The most fashionable trend in “urban gardening” is chicken husbandry. I’ve had backyard eggs, small farm eggs, and industrial factory eggs. They all taste like fucking eggs. People are just so busy masturbating to the idea they are saving the goddamn world by having pet chickens that their pliable brains tell them they taste better. They don’t. In any case, last night I went “urban chicken egg hunting” and made some scrambled eggs this morning. Tomorrow I’ll post a recipe for Whole Roasted Urban Chicken.

Crack the eggs into a bowl and add sour cream, water, salt, and pepper. Whisk them together until the yolks are completely combined with the whites. Melt a little butter in a pan over medium to medium-low heat depending on the calibration of your range. Pour in the eggs and let the bottom set ever so slightly. Using a wooden spatula, pull the sides into the center allowing the liquid to gain access to the heated surface while simultaneously removing the slightly cooked portion from direct heat. As soon as the entirety of the liquid has barely become solid, pull the pan off the heat source and slide the eggs onto a plate.

I used the eggs to make this breakfast sandwich. It has mayo, fancy salami, and a bloomy rind cheese from Vermont. Eat it.

Steak with Creamy Mushrooms and Romanesco

1 Head Romanesco

Vegetable Oil

Salt & Pepper

1/2c White Wine

2 Garlic Cloves, minced

1/2 Small Yellow Onion, minced

A Handful or Two of Fancy Mushrooms

Salt

1/2c Whole Milk or Heavy Cream

  

“What the fuck is that green stuff? Did you create some sort of broccoli/weed hybrid?” That, my brain-dead hippie stoner friends, is romanesco. It’s like a cauliflower except it has flavor. When you are done trying to smoke it out of “Stevie Ray Bong,” break off a nugget and eat it. It tastes pretty good raw but roasting eliminates a fair amount of the bitterness.

Slice the romanesco head in half, lengthwise. That’s top to bottom, dumbass. Pull all the nuggets off the core, rise with cold water, and toss with vegetable oil, salt, and pepper. Spread them out on a baking sheet and roast at 375 degrees for about 35 minutes flipping them halfway.

In a small saucepan combine the wine, garlic, onion, mushrooms, and salt. Simmer over medium-ish heat until a good amount of the wine has evaporated. Pour in the milk/cream and reduce until thickened.

“What kind of white wine should I use? What about this dusty bottle of 2006 Burgundy Chardonnay I found in my uncle’s basement?” While I believe the creamy butteriness of such a wine would be a good fit for this dish, there is no need to use such a valuable wine. Conversely, you don’t want to use Yellowtail either. I used a Chablis because that’s what I was drinking. If I were drinking a Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, however, I would avoid using it due to the typical passionfruit/guava overtones. Since the sauce will be poured over steak, the best white wine would be a big, heavily oaked chardonnay. This is probably the subject for a post in and of itself but suffice to say the wine’s flavor should reflect the dish in which it is to be used and vice versa. “So…Thunderbird?” Sure, why not?       

Cook your steak like any other steak: Salt, pepper, and a hot ass cast iron skillet. If it doesn’t bleed when you cut into it, you fucked up.

Like the yak and truffles, I got all the fancy mushrooms and romanesco at the Portland winter farmer’s market. For a winter market there is actually quite a bit of shit available. It’s at Shemanski Park downtown and I would highly suggest checking it out. Don’t let the name fool you; there are no Polish people, just a bunch of ladyboys. Eat it.

Yak Burgers with White Truffles

1/2tsp Dijon Mustard

2tbl White Wine

3 Egg Yolks, reserve the whites

1/2oz Oregon White Truffles, shaved

Salt

1/2c Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1lb Ground Yak

3 Egg Whites

Fresh Bread Crumbs

I checked out the new Portland winter farmer’s market downtown last weekend and found a vendor selling yak meat. People in less fortunate, crappier countries probably eat yak because there is nothing else to consume in their barren wastelands but here in the real world rich white yuppies eat that shit up because it is ‘exotic’ and ridiculously expensive. Unfortunately, I am a sucker. I laid out $10 a pound for fucking ground yak and proceeded to purchase Oregon white truffles at $10 an ounce. I’m such a good cracker.

I made an aioli type of sauce thingy with white truffles to go on the burgers. Dump the first five ingredients in a food processor and blend. While the blade is running, slowly pour in the olive oil. Done.

Ground yak is quite lean so you can form them into patties straight up but I didn’t want to throw away my leftover egg whites so I mixed them with the meat. This made a goopy mess so I diced up some baguette and tossed it in to soak up the egg white. Add some salt and pepper. Form the mixture into patties and cook.

Assemble the burger. I hope you are capable of figuring that part out on your own but judging from the ridiculous email questions I get from you morons probably not.

I was absolutely floored by the incredible tastiness of this burger. It was like licking an Angel’s taint and I’m not talking about that chick with the sharpie eyebrows. The price is pretty outrageous but two huge burgers with the truffle sauce were only about $7 each. I can live with that. I noticed they take food stamps as well so you’re in luck. Eat it.      

Gooze

1c Clear Creek Apple Brandy

1/2c Goose Fat.

Since reserving the fat from my Christmas Goose I have been on the lookout for interesting applications. This total moron I know and [unfortunately] lives near me, @conoat, said he was going to fatwash some rye whiskey so I stole his idea and made it better. That’s the American way.

Heat the fat over medium heat until it starts bubbling. Dump the brandy in a mason jar, pour in the hot fat, slightly cool, and cover. Shakeweight that shit every ten minutes for a couple hours or you can just pay that bitch Tina from the corner who gives one dollar handjobs to do it for you. Put it in the freezer overnight.

Pull the Gooze from the freezer, let briefly thaw, and run it through one of those metal mesh thingies. Pour it into another mason jar and put it back in the freezer. Later that day, remove it from the freezer and let it briefly thaw. Put a coffee filter in one of those metal mesh thingies and pour it through. Don't forget to put a receptacle under the strainer. Been there before. Squeeze to drain out all the remaining Gooze.

Bacon vodka can lick my anus; Gooze is the fucking shit. You can sip it straight up or create some kind of hipster bullshit cocktail. As an added bonus, you can smear the congealed booze fat on your toast or pancakes. If your boss asks why you smell like hooch at eight in the morning at least now you’ll have an excuse. Drink it.   

Goose Juice Soup

2tbl Goose Fat

10 Red Potatoes, cut into 1/8ths

1 Yellow Onion, diced

3 Pints Goose Juice

2 Pints Water

1 Bunch Italian Kale, roughly chopped

1 Bunch Red Chard, roughly chopped

Reserved Goose Meat, shredded

This rich winter warmer soup is the perfect evening meal to sip in front of the fireplace at your getaway lodge in the mountains but since you are currently shot gunning room temperature generic tomato soup out of the can in front of the radiator at the halfway house I’m probably wasting my time. Here it goes anyway.

Cook the potatoes in the goose fat for a long ass time. “This one red potato is really big! I should still follow the directions exactly and cut it into 1/8ths?” Are you fucking simple? Cut it into 1/16ths or some shit. Everything is different and nothing is ever the same. There are potential variations everywhere so at least try improvising on something as simple as how big a fucking potato should be. When the potatoes are softened, add the onion and stir until softened and fragrant.

Bust the juice into the pot and add the water. Depending on the intensity of the broth, you might want to change the amount of water. Bring it to a boil and simmer for five minutes. Add the Italian kale and simmer for ten minutes. Add the red chard and goose meat and simmer for another ten minutes. Woo your wife, wife’s younger sister, or wife’s elderly mother by serving this soup and asking, “Would you like to guzzle my goose juice?” Eat it. 

Goose Juice

No, I am not talking about ejaculate you fucking sicko. I made literal goose juice from my Christmas dinner. Some people, stupid American ones, just huck the thing in the trash but I, as a non-moron, utilize every edible part of all the dead animals I consume. Not because I’m some Earth humping hippie but because I paid for that shit so I’m going to bleed it dry. If I paid a hooker for two hours and finished my business in an hour and a half, I’d make that bitch stare at the wall for another half hour while I finished off the blow.

Preserving the Fat:

After cooking the goose fucking strain the liquid fat through one of those mesh metal thingies and put it in the fridge, super genius.

Making Goose Juice:

Shove the carcass in a big ass pot. Barely cover with water. Simmer for six hours. Pull out the bones, run it through a mesh metal thingy, pour it into jars, and store in the fridge for maximum freshness. Not rocket surgery here people. Don’t forget to reserve the meat for future applications.

My goose was flavored perfectly so I didn’t need to do anything else but since your goose will suck, you might want to add some seasoning and mirepoix. That’s what French people and pretentious dicks worldwide call celery, onion, and carrot.

Eat it

2012: The Year of the Anti-Foodites

News Wire: December 28, 2012

The past year has been devastating for the food industry in the United States. After the anti-carb, anti-gluten, anti-meat, anti-dairy fanatics joined forces and came to the conclusion that all humans are intolerant to every fucking thing in the world, they decided to reject food in all its various forms other than vapors. We caught up with a self-proclaimed “Anti-Foodite” and this is what she had to say:

“I’m completely intolerant to all foods. I never realized it before this movement became mainstream but since I’ve stopped eating food I feel fantastic and I’ve lost a ton of weight! I mean, look at how little food those poor Asian people eat and they invented Buddhism and Yoga. I try to only drink one glass of water a week and every day I go to one of the many new molecular gastronomy restaurants to breathe nutritional supplements.” She subsequently dropped to the ground and died of hunger.

Farms, grocery stores, and traditional restaurants across the nation have taken devastating losses while the molecular gastronomy “Breathing Rooms” have occupied every street corner. The founders of the Anti-Foodite Movement have been elected to the highest offices in Washington and now run our country of malnourished, self-absorbed, brain-dead yuppies.

The new US government, led by Alton “Iron Fister” Brown, has rejected a plea from the international community to encourage its citizens to start eating again. The US’s self-imposed famine is projected to eradicate the entire country’s population by mid 2013. The Iron Fister replied to the world by tweeting, “Don’t hate because we are smarter than you and can turn food into vapors.” The international community @ replied him stating, “Fine, go ahead and die. We don’t really give a shit.”

At the time of publication the US population was counted at less than five million and major cities such as NYC, DC, LA, and San Francisco were reduced to ghost towns. 


Happy New Year, fuckjobs.  

Christmas Goose

10lb Goose

1 Apple, cored and sliced

1 Orange, sliced

1 1/2c Cranberries

Kosher Salt

1/4c Honey

1/4c Ruby Port

1/4c Butter

1/4c Brown Sugar

The Christmas Goose is a longstanding tradition to honor the birth of Santa. One December morning long, long ago a single whore mother gave birth in the lobby of a Motel 6 after turning her third trick of the night. In celebration of this miraculous bastard birth, the redneck tweeker desk clerk ventured to the manmade lake outside, strangled the life out of a goose, drowned its orphaned young, and roasted that motherfucker over the radiator. This pivotal moment ushered in a new era for the history of human civilization. Lord Santa would grow up to become the patron saint of consumerist capitalism, serve four terms as Grand Overlord of Earth, and eight terms as Ruthless Dictator until his untimely death at the hands of Jesus IV. It is in his memory that I make this dish. 

Shove your hand up the goose’s ass and pull out all the innards. Reserve all that crap for pate or some shit. Since geese have more fat than the dumpster behind a liposuction clinic, lightly score the breasts and legs so it can drain out. Toss the apple, orange, and cranberry with a little salt and cram it up the goose’s butt. Mix the glaze ingredients together and brush the bird with 1/4^th of it. Reserve the rest for later applications.

Put the dickhead, ill-tempered bird in a 375 degree oven, uncovered. After 30 minutes, baste it with some of the melted fat, add another layer of glaze, loosely cover with tin foil, and turn the heat down to 350 degrees. Continue to baste and glaze every thirty minutes for about two and a half hours. The goose will produce about a mason jar of fat so when you are done let it cool a little and put it in the fridge. Use it in lieu of butter in future dishes.

Share the goose with a gaggle of hookers in honor of Santa’s dirty whore mother. Eat it.

Spicy Cinnamon, Ruby Port, and Dark Chocolate Cookies

2 1/2c Flour

2/3c Cocoa

2tsp Saigon Cassia Cinnamon

1 1/2tsp Baking Powder

2 Sticks of Butter, softened

1 1/2c Brown Sugar

2 Eggs

2tbl Ruby Port

5oz Dark Chocolate, coarsely chopped

I decided to make some sort of holiday-ish cookies yesterday so I took a gander around my pantry. At first I thought of chipotle chocolate cookies but when I googled it I found out every fucker in the world has made them, including the culinary icon Rachael Ray, so I kept looking. I found some specialty sweet and spicy cinnamon and decided to go that route. Then I laid my eyes on some leftover port from Thanksgiving. I smelled the port and then the cinnamon. Then I stuck the port in one nostril, the cinnamon in the other, and huffed them at the same time. Heaven.

Whisk all the dry ingredients together and set aside. Cream the butter with the sugar, add the eggs and port, and completely combine. Slowly incorporate the dry into the wet. “Hehe, that sounds dirty.” Shut up, you fucking pervert. Fold in the dark chocolate and roll the dough into balls. “Hehe, balls.” What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you at least try to keep the moron hole in your stupid fat face closed for one second while I finish this? Jesus Christ. Bake them at 350 degrees for 13 minutes and transfer to a wire rack to cool. Happy fucking holidays, bitches. Eat it.

Coffee Shop Scones Suck

2c Flour

1c Oatmeal

1/3c Brown Sugar

Zest from 1/2 a Lemon

1 1/2tsp Baking Powder

1/2tsp Baking Soda

1/2tsp Salt

1 Stick of Butter, chilled and diced

1/2c Whole Milk

2oz Cream Cheese, room temperature

1 Egg

1/2 Pint Blueberries, or some other crappy berry

“Gross, only chicks eat scones.” Exactly, stupid. Why the fuck do you think we are making them? Furthermore, it’s those local independently owned coffee shops where they make you feel like you’re not worthy enough to drink their free-trade organic shade-grown vegan-fed gluten-free pour-over French-press crappy coffee that have given scones a bad name. Since those idiots make their scones with cute puppy blood, they turn out as hard as a rock and are capable of chipping teeth. This recipe turns out fluffy delicious scones because I use ugly kitten blood. Just kidding, I drank all mine last night.

Bust up the first seven ingredients in a food processor and then grind in the butter. Whisk together the milk, cream cheese, and egg. Dump it in the processor and crank it. Put the dough on a surface dusted with flour and gradually fold in the blueberries. Toss and smack it around until it gets about ten inches wide. Give it an egg wash, sprinkle on a liberal amount of white sugar, and cut it into eight triangles.

Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. Serve these to the special lady you are currently stalking to finally win her over. Women love baked goods from complete strangers. Eat it.