Sometimes, you might get a bit overzealous in your country style rib ambitions. Or, maybe your guests are philistines and have turned up their noses at non-babyback products. Or maybe you just really like leftovers. Whatever the case, you're reading this because you woke up this morning and found ribs in your fridge, and you know full well that day-after ribs are never as good as the fresh-off-the-grill variety. Experience is a cruel mistress.
Luckily for you, there's a viable use for leftover ribs that by and large doesn't taste like leftovers. Instead, it tastes like barbecued pulled pork, which I consider to be a perfectly acceptable substitute. The secret is to get the meat steaming hot. If it's not hot enough, the juices won't run right and the meat will be dry.
1 pre-barbecued country-style rib
1 sandwich roll
barbecue sauce of your choice
Slice the rib into bite-sized chunks. Microwave on medium-high in 90 second increments until hot. Put in sandwich roll, add sauce to taste, and eat. Makes 1 sandwich.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Tacos
Once upon a time, I was a Girl Scout. This was a while ago, and I didn't keep up with it for very long. But at one time, merit badges held a certain allure, and I'm sure my parents were quite happy to see me socializing. I was a bit of a loner, even then.
One of these merit badges was some sort of house keeping or cooking thing. The important part was that I had to make dinner for my family. I think I was about 9 years old at the time. I made tacos, and my parents were really proud of me. I was always surprised at that because even then, tacos were something I didn't have much trouble with, and I don't recall thinking it was a big deal. I served brownies for dessert.
I didn't stick with the girl scouts. There was the 'incident' on a camping trip involving a large fireball and the unfortunate loss of some of my hair, and I always felt like the boy scouts had more fun.
However, I still know how to make tacos.
One of these merit badges was some sort of house keeping or cooking thing. The important part was that I had to make dinner for my family. I think I was about 9 years old at the time. I made tacos, and my parents were really proud of me. I was always surprised at that because even then, tacos were something I didn't have much trouble with, and I don't recall thinking it was a big deal. I served brownies for dessert.
I didn't stick with the girl scouts. There was the 'incident' on a camping trip involving a large fireball and the unfortunate loss of some of my hair, and I always felt like the boy scouts had more fun.
However, I still know how to make tacos.
Dorm Room Desperation: Ramen in the Sink
My freshman year of college, I lived in luxury. I was lucky enough to be placed in an apartment with air conditioning and a full kitchen. My roommate was wonderful, and we had a great time on Friday nights cooking dinner and watching old Hitchcock movies. Then she graduated. My new roommate was an experienced and consummate slob, and after one semester, I fled for a single dorm room in a building with 300 people and one kitchen 3 floors away.
My diet rapidly disintegrated as I cooked less and ate out more. My all time low, however, was when I started cooking ramen noodles in my bathroom sink. I didn't have a microwave, so I would dump dry noodles in a bowl, add half the required amount of hot water, and half the seasoning packet. I learned to like crunchy noodles.
My diet rapidly disintegrated as I cooked less and ate out more. My all time low, however, was when I started cooking ramen noodles in my bathroom sink. I didn't have a microwave, so I would dump dry noodles in a bowl, add half the required amount of hot water, and half the seasoning packet. I learned to like crunchy noodles.
Drinks for People Who Don't Like the Taste of Alcohol
I fall in this category. Over the years, I've learned to appreciate whiskey well enough to enjoy mint juleps, but for the most part, alcohol tastes like gasoline to me and it's something I want no part of. It doesn't help that I tend to shy away from sour or bitter drinks. So I've started devising concotions that mask the taste of alcohol. Usually, this includes vodka and more than a few mixers.
I've never harbored any illusions that these would be considered good drinks. They taste good to me, but in the grand scheme of things, they're pretty wimpy. So it was with some surprise that I was giving out this recipe one New Year's Eve to a bunch of older friends whom, I felt, should have known better. This is also very anticlimactic as recipes go. That particular night, I didn't have access to any liquors or other tricks, so the recipe I was giving out was, "Vodka and chocolate milk. Yes, really. Make chocolate milk. Add a satisfying amount of vodka. Stir and enjoy. And be careful not to drink it too fast."
1 c milk
2 Tbsp chocolate syrup
1-2 oz vodka
optional flavorings: amaretto, Irish cream, Godiva liquor, creme de cacao, creme de menthe, peppermint extract, butterscotch schnapps, kahlua, Starbucks coffee liquor.
Combine all ingredients. Stir. Serve over ice in a tumbler, or in a martini glass.
I've never harbored any illusions that these would be considered good drinks. They taste good to me, but in the grand scheme of things, they're pretty wimpy. So it was with some surprise that I was giving out this recipe one New Year's Eve to a bunch of older friends whom, I felt, should have known better. This is also very anticlimactic as recipes go. That particular night, I didn't have access to any liquors or other tricks, so the recipe I was giving out was, "Vodka and chocolate milk. Yes, really. Make chocolate milk. Add a satisfying amount of vodka. Stir and enjoy. And be careful not to drink it too fast."
1 c milk
2 Tbsp chocolate syrup
1-2 oz vodka
optional flavorings: amaretto, Irish cream, Godiva liquor, creme de cacao, creme de menthe, peppermint extract, butterscotch schnapps, kahlua, Starbucks coffee liquor.
Combine all ingredients. Stir. Serve over ice in a tumbler, or in a martini glass.
Texas Style Brisket
My parents belong to a neighborhood cooking club. Three times a year, they'll plan huge themed parties where every member is mailed a recipe that they're responsible for preparing and bringing to the party. One year, my dad got this one. we loved it and now he and I make it for special occasions. Our birthdays, for example, which fall two days apart.
It takes time but it's well worth it. My dad serves it with barbecue sauce, which I think is overkill, so I normally serve it plain, with a bottle of sauce off to the side for people who want it. The grilling stage is NOT optional.
For the spice rub:
1/4 c chili powder
2 Tbsp salt
2 Tbsp paprika
4 tsp garlic powder
4 tsp black pepper
2 tsp cayenne pepper
2 tsp white pepper
1 tsp cumin
The meat: 3 whole briskets, about 4 lbs each
30-40 kaiser rolls.
Combine all spices. Rub spice mixture liberally onto briskets so they are completely coated. Let stand 1-2 hours at room temp. Preheat oven to 325F. Wrap meat in aluminum foil and place in shallow pans on a rack. Add approximately 1/4 inch of water to the pan. Alternatively, you can cut up carrots, onions, and potatoes and have the brisket stand on vegetable chunks. These should then be served with the brisket. Bake for 5-6 hours until meat is very tender, adding more water to roasting pans as necessary. Preserve roasting juices. Over a medium grill fire, unwrap meat and grill for 10-15 minutes per side until charred. Let meat stand for about 15 minutes, then slice thinly across the grain. Serve in roasting juices.
It takes time but it's well worth it. My dad serves it with barbecue sauce, which I think is overkill, so I normally serve it plain, with a bottle of sauce off to the side for people who want it. The grilling stage is NOT optional.
For the spice rub:
1/4 c chili powder
2 Tbsp salt
2 Tbsp paprika
4 tsp garlic powder
4 tsp black pepper
2 tsp cayenne pepper
2 tsp white pepper
1 tsp cumin
The meat: 3 whole briskets, about 4 lbs each
30-40 kaiser rolls.
Combine all spices. Rub spice mixture liberally onto briskets so they are completely coated. Let stand 1-2 hours at room temp. Preheat oven to 325F. Wrap meat in aluminum foil and place in shallow pans on a rack. Add approximately 1/4 inch of water to the pan. Alternatively, you can cut up carrots, onions, and potatoes and have the brisket stand on vegetable chunks. These should then be served with the brisket. Bake for 5-6 hours until meat is very tender, adding more water to roasting pans as necessary. Preserve roasting juices. Over a medium grill fire, unwrap meat and grill for 10-15 minutes per side until charred. Let meat stand for about 15 minutes, then slice thinly across the grain. Serve in roasting juices.
Hallie's Comet: Adventures In Starbucks
Whatever else you may think of Starbucks, they have one undisputed Really Awesome (tm) service, which is that they're willing to make just about anything you ask for if they have the ingredients and the time. So one day I had a break in the middle of a gig on a fairly warm day and I headed down to my local Starbucks and asked for this drink by description. The barista was quite excited about this and thought they might actually start advertising it. He asked for my name, and when I gave it to him, he said, "We'll call it Hallie's Comet."
1 pt apple juice
1 pt black tea/iced tea
2 shots caramel
cinnamon and nutmeg
ice
Dump all ingredients in a blender. Blend until mixture reaches slushie consistency. Drink on warm days.
1 pt apple juice
1 pt black tea/iced tea
2 shots caramel
cinnamon and nutmeg
ice
Dump all ingredients in a blender. Blend until mixture reaches slushie consistency. Drink on warm days.
Country Style Ribs: An Ode
This country seems to have an obsession with baby back ribs. I suppose this makes some sense. They're tender and juicy and they give cooks an opportunity to show off various spice rubs and secret BBQ sauce recipes. And let's not forget the grill. Rib chefs are lords of their grills, and woe-betide the person who gets in the middle of that relationship.
I've never really seen the point. Part of the reason for this is that the ratio of meat to bone is disappointing, and I don't like to fight with my food. More to the point, I grew up with something far better: country style pork ribs. Country style ribs are thick, meaty, juicy, and completely satisfying to see on a plate. I can make a meal out of two, rather than half a rack. All the same opportunities for futzing with spice rubs and sauces still exist. And finally, there is nothing so satisfying as telling your guests that you're serving ribs and seeing the look on their faces when said ribs appear.
I've never really seen the point. Part of the reason for this is that the ratio of meat to bone is disappointing, and I don't like to fight with my food. More to the point, I grew up with something far better: country style pork ribs. Country style ribs are thick, meaty, juicy, and completely satisfying to see on a plate. I can make a meal out of two, rather than half a rack. All the same opportunities for futzing with spice rubs and sauces still exist. And finally, there is nothing so satisfying as telling your guests that you're serving ribs and seeing the look on their faces when said ribs appear.
Babysitter Resources: Hallie's Famous Grilled Cheese
I never had a huge or noteworthy babysitting career. My two main clients were my mom when she needed someone to watch my little sister, and a nearby family with two angelic children who never caused me any problems. Once I got to be about 15 or 16, I started to have a life outside of school and books, and consequently my weekends were no longer available for babysitting. Nevertheless, there are some skills that every babysitter absolutely must have, and one is the ability to quickly cook something that takes very few ingredients and will still be deemed acceptable by the charges.
My 'signature' dish was grilled cheese. This fact, even then, was a source of amusement to me. I grew up not liking cheese. I don't even remember how I came to know how to make them, but my sister especially used to beg for these. The secret is not to get too fancy with ingredients. Butter, off-the-shelf bread full of preservatives, and American cheese pre-sliced, are the essentials. Don't mess with them. Save the fancy stuff for the parents.
For one sandwich
2 slices generic white or wheat bread
2 slices American cheese
1 Tbsp butter
Butter one side of each slice of bread. Make a cheese sandwich so that the buttered sides of the bread are facing OUT (i.e. not touching the cheese). Place a frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook the sandwich on one side until bread is nicely toasted. Cheese might not be melted at this point. Flip and cook until bread is toasted and cheese is melted. You might need to reduce the heat to make sure the bread doesn't burn. DO NOT SMASH WITH THE SPATULA. This is not allowed. Makes 1 sandwich.
My 'signature' dish was grilled cheese. This fact, even then, was a source of amusement to me. I grew up not liking cheese. I don't even remember how I came to know how to make them, but my sister especially used to beg for these. The secret is not to get too fancy with ingredients. Butter, off-the-shelf bread full of preservatives, and American cheese pre-sliced, are the essentials. Don't mess with them. Save the fancy stuff for the parents.
For one sandwich
2 slices generic white or wheat bread
2 slices American cheese
1 Tbsp butter
Butter one side of each slice of bread. Make a cheese sandwich so that the buttered sides of the bread are facing OUT (i.e. not touching the cheese). Place a frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook the sandwich on one side until bread is nicely toasted. Cheese might not be melted at this point. Flip and cook until bread is toasted and cheese is melted. You might need to reduce the heat to make sure the bread doesn't burn. DO NOT SMASH WITH THE SPATULA. This is not allowed. Makes 1 sandwich.
Eggs: My Arch Nemesis
There aren't too many foods that I hate to make. Some cooking processes are more pleasant than others, but it's usually true that the benefits of the final product far outweigh any unpleasantness inherent in the making of said dish.
...which is why the bane of my kitchen existence is not food, but paint. Egg tempera paint. I hate making it. It involves separating an egg by hand, which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't actually need the palms of my hands to do it. But in the interests of completely removing the white from the yolk, I have to immerse my hands in foul-smelling snot. And the stench lingers for days. DAYS!!
...which is why the bane of my kitchen existence is not food, but paint. Egg tempera paint. I hate making it. It involves separating an egg by hand, which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't actually need the palms of my hands to do it. But in the interests of completely removing the white from the yolk, I have to immerse my hands in foul-smelling snot. And the stench lingers for days. DAYS!!
Random Mini Thought
I have an odd relationship with chick peas. It's normal now; I like them, I put them in salads and maybe some Indian food, and that's the end of it. But my parents, guardians of the embarrassing past, tell me that when I was three or four years old, I threw a small temper tantrum in a restaurant in my quest for chick peas. There was chanting and banging of silverware on the table and everything else.
Random Mini Thought
I'm here to confirm that all your suspicions are true. Good pie crust is, in fact, a black art. I've been there, I've seen it, and no recipe in the world can adequately prepare you for what you actually need to know in order to make it.
Graduation Stories
Last year, Chris and Jim, another housemate, graduated. I stuck around for graduation, met their families, and generally enjoyed the weekend.
Months prior, Jim's parents had suggested that he make reservations for dinner at a local restaurant. This was to be the night before graduation, and it was to include Jim and his family, Chris and his family, and me. Jim never quite got around to making the reservations. We struck out anyway, in search of a restaurant, but everything within driving distance was packed with other people who had the same idea.
Jim and I were sitting in the lobby of where ever we were, contemplating an obscene wait time, when I pointed out that we'd probably eat more quickly if we went to the grocery store and cooked food at home.
We herded eight people down to the local supermarket to pick up steaks, salad stuff, garlic bread fixings, wine, and dessert, and then dragged it all home and out to the grill. Jim's dad cooked the steaks, Chris' dad was in charge of the grill, we had a great dinner on couches in the living rooms, and we all decided it was a good enough tradition that now that I'm graduating and Chris is getting his master's, we're going to do it again this year.
Months prior, Jim's parents had suggested that he make reservations for dinner at a local restaurant. This was to be the night before graduation, and it was to include Jim and his family, Chris and his family, and me. Jim never quite got around to making the reservations. We struck out anyway, in search of a restaurant, but everything within driving distance was packed with other people who had the same idea.
Jim and I were sitting in the lobby of where ever we were, contemplating an obscene wait time, when I pointed out that we'd probably eat more quickly if we went to the grocery store and cooked food at home.
We herded eight people down to the local supermarket to pick up steaks, salad stuff, garlic bread fixings, wine, and dessert, and then dragged it all home and out to the grill. Jim's dad cooked the steaks, Chris' dad was in charge of the grill, we had a great dinner on couches in the living rooms, and we all decided it was a good enough tradition that now that I'm graduating and Chris is getting his master's, we're going to do it again this year.
The Grill and The Marshmallows
I have a long-standing theory that college life is one long string of instances in which a protagonist asks, "Why not?" and doesn't find an answer.
Take, for instance, the couch on our front porch. It arrived unceremoniously heaped atop a housemate's car. I know this because I arrived home to find the couch still on top of the car, and on top of *that* were my housemate and a friend. The car was parked on the side of the road, and my friends were enjoying the weather and watching the world go by. Occasionally, passing motorists would contribute a surprised and delighted horn honk which was received with a smile, a wave, and a toast.
This couch, rescued from a fate of certain landfill, ended up on our front porch, in the process displacing an old, rickety outdoor love seat as the primary porch seating location. During the warmer months, I used any excuse I could to sit on the couch and enjoy being outdoors. Breakfast and dinner were taken there, and when homework inevitably beckoned, I had a long extension cord that would follow me outside so I could work on my laptop. I particularly loved to be out in the rain. I would sit and watch thunderstorms through walls of water pouring off the roof, separating me from the elements.
By far, however, the greatest couch events invariably included the other key member of the porch assembly: the grill. We had a small charcoal grill out front and during the spring we made a habit of inviting friends over for a sunset barbecue. The grill was short enough that most charcoal tending could be easily accomplished while sitting on the couch, and it was at moments like these that we honestly thought that life didn't get any better.
The process of grilling with charcoal is a time-critical sequence of events. There is an interval in which the coals are hot enough to grill meat and dense vegetables. After this time period has passed, the coals are still hot and glowing. They're just not hot enough to do anything useful. Also, chances are good that everyone is full. It seems a shame, though, to waste all the heat that the coals are still putting out, which is why marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate are a mandatory part of most grilling sessions at our house.
One particularly enjoyable night -- involving four friends and a very satisfying burger event -- found us in possession of mini marshmallows, but no other s'more ingredients. Not to be deterred, we soldiered on. And then some intrepid soul decided to experiment with liquor soaked 'mallows. As if colloidal sugar structures didn't burn well enough on their own. And thus, the Buttershots marshmallow was born. Imbued with a newfound sense of purpose, we conveyed to the porch an assortment of sweetly flavored liquids -- more liquors, peppermint extract, and the remains of a bottle of wine that had been shared over dinner.
Someone produced a bag of chocolate chips and we immersed ourselves in the newfound science of marshmallow infusion. Systematically experimenting with various flavor combinations, we easily polished off the bag of marshmallows. The coals were still glowing though.
Take, for instance, the couch on our front porch. It arrived unceremoniously heaped atop a housemate's car. I know this because I arrived home to find the couch still on top of the car, and on top of *that* were my housemate and a friend. The car was parked on the side of the road, and my friends were enjoying the weather and watching the world go by. Occasionally, passing motorists would contribute a surprised and delighted horn honk which was received with a smile, a wave, and a toast.
This couch, rescued from a fate of certain landfill, ended up on our front porch, in the process displacing an old, rickety outdoor love seat as the primary porch seating location. During the warmer months, I used any excuse I could to sit on the couch and enjoy being outdoors. Breakfast and dinner were taken there, and when homework inevitably beckoned, I had a long extension cord that would follow me outside so I could work on my laptop. I particularly loved to be out in the rain. I would sit and watch thunderstorms through walls of water pouring off the roof, separating me from the elements.
By far, however, the greatest couch events invariably included the other key member of the porch assembly: the grill. We had a small charcoal grill out front and during the spring we made a habit of inviting friends over for a sunset barbecue. The grill was short enough that most charcoal tending could be easily accomplished while sitting on the couch, and it was at moments like these that we honestly thought that life didn't get any better.
The process of grilling with charcoal is a time-critical sequence of events. There is an interval in which the coals are hot enough to grill meat and dense vegetables. After this time period has passed, the coals are still hot and glowing. They're just not hot enough to do anything useful. Also, chances are good that everyone is full. It seems a shame, though, to waste all the heat that the coals are still putting out, which is why marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate are a mandatory part of most grilling sessions at our house.
One particularly enjoyable night -- involving four friends and a very satisfying burger event -- found us in possession of mini marshmallows, but no other s'more ingredients. Not to be deterred, we soldiered on. And then some intrepid soul decided to experiment with liquor soaked 'mallows. As if colloidal sugar structures didn't burn well enough on their own. And thus, the Buttershots marshmallow was born. Imbued with a newfound sense of purpose, we conveyed to the porch an assortment of sweetly flavored liquids -- more liquors, peppermint extract, and the remains of a bottle of wine that had been shared over dinner.
Someone produced a bag of chocolate chips and we immersed ourselves in the newfound science of marshmallow infusion. Systematically experimenting with various flavor combinations, we easily polished off the bag of marshmallows. The coals were still glowing though.
Fizzies: Dad's Cosmological Temper Tantrum Weapon
Up until I was about 12, our family had a vacation tradition of spending two weeks of August in Duck, North Carolina. Gradually, the rest of our extended family would migrate down, and we would eventually gather 11 people in one beach house to celebrate a host of summer birthdays and anniversaries. My cousin and my sister and I spent 8 hours per day on the beach and generally had an amazing time, but occasionally things got rocky, and then my dad would make Sun Fizzies. Sometimes he would make them just for the heck of it. I enjoyed these more for the name than the actual flavor since they contained orange juice (which I HATE). Eventually, however, the drink arsenal was expanded to include most of the planets and other celestial bodies, and I've added a few more.
A fizzie is some sort of mixer combined with seltzer, and served over ice. Start with half seltzer, half mixer, and adjust from there. I've listed the mixers for each below
Sun Fizzie: orange juice
Venus Fizzie: apple juice
Mars Fizzie: cranberry-raspberry juice
Jupiter Fizzie: apple juice with a maraschino cherry for the red spot
Saturn Fizze: orange juice, garnished with rings of orange, lemon, and lime.
Uranus Fizzie: blue raspberry kool-aid
Asteroid Belt: grape juice and pop-rocks
Super Nova: No seltzer. Instead, equal parts of ginger ale and cran-ras juice, and optionally a splash of grenadine.
A fizzie is some sort of mixer combined with seltzer, and served over ice. Start with half seltzer, half mixer, and adjust from there. I've listed the mixers for each below
Sun Fizzie: orange juice
Venus Fizzie: apple juice
Mars Fizzie: cranberry-raspberry juice
Jupiter Fizzie: apple juice with a maraschino cherry for the red spot
Saturn Fizze: orange juice, garnished with rings of orange, lemon, and lime.
Uranus Fizzie: blue raspberry kool-aid
Asteroid Belt: grape juice and pop-rocks
Super Nova: No seltzer. Instead, equal parts of ginger ale and cran-ras juice, and optionally a splash of grenadine.
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