#adventurous eating

[educatedinyellow]

Supernatural's Misha Collins Makes a Castiel Pizza

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Stand Up Against Soy Sauce Abuse | Kitchen Lab

Stand Up Against Soy Sauce Abuse | Kitchen Lab

Soy sauce is not a right; it’s a privilege. And we’ve gathered chefs who are standing up to soy sauce abuse in the name of authentic Asian cuisine. Join us. SUBSCRIBE for more videos: http://bonap.it/YouTubeSub

ABOUT “KITCHEN LAB” Sample unusual dishes, test out brand new recipes, and explore the unexpected in culinary creativity with host Jimmy Wong. Your taste buds will thank you.

Catch up on…

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How to Cook a Twinkie w/ a Flaming Pine Cone | Kitchen Lab

How to Cook a Twinkie w/ a Flaming Pine Cone | Kitchen Lab

Chef Paul Shoemaker and Jimmy Wong smoke America’s classic dessert, Twinkies. SUBSCRIBE for more videos: http://bonap.it/YouTubeSub

ABOUT “KITCHEN LAB” Sample unusual dishes, test out brand new recipes, and explore the unexpected in culinary creativity with host Jimmy Wong. Your taste buds will thank you.

Catch up on all past episodes of KITCHEN LAB here: http://bit.ly/KichenLab

And for more of…

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[relicawild-blog]

Eating in Clint’s apartment is exciting! Is that mold on the pizza? Pepperoni? Only one way to find out!

[mealies-blog]

Avant Garde Eggs?

This one comes to your eyes through the passages of time. From the room marked 6/15.

Sunday. Breakfast is the healthy, feel good deliciousness. It seems to me that a lot of the foods I concoct fit squarely into my palate, but have traditionally veered left when it comes to crowd appeal. Salsa on everything may be accepted, but not condoned. Poached eggs on salad are unorthodox, but also hella fine. 

I find that it's these types of breakfasts - healthy and fresh but not necessarily fruity, that are coming into fashion right now, albeit with names more alluring than 'egg salad but not, like, eggy egg-salad, just egg and salad, like separate but together, you know?' The names we find on menus are more commonly along the lines of 'cultured yogurt and mixed produce from meadows with a sparrow's egg next to heat filled cool gazpacho'. I love them for their originality, not for their obfuscation. 

Today, I woke up knowing I wanted yogurt and warmth. Feeling like I wanted bananas as well, I veered initially towards a go-to of myself and several other million people in the contiguous breakfasting states: bananas and yogurt with cereal and peanut butter.  Yet before I had time to reach for the fruit basket, my brain kicked in and told me to use a little forethought- often something of a rarity when I  make dietary decisions. 

I knew I'd be having pizza for dinner with family friends and that my mid-day snack would more likely involve brownies or beer than anything resembling healthy. With that in mind I replanned...then stepped comfortably to option B, my favorite breakfast. 

Here's where it comes.

Let's call it the warm salad. I recently ate a variation of it in a Seattle restaurant and so feel validated in writing about it here. That is to say, at least one of you may like it. Make no mistake, it is a little...heterodox, we'll say.

Hear me out. 

Take a few handful of blueberries and throw them into a medium cast iron (or whatever you have you, just give it a touch of butter if it's not lubed up, ok?) set to medium heat. Then, add in half a thinly sliced zucchini and perhaps a clove of garlic. Shake the pan every minute or so and roughly tear up about two cups of kale, spinach, chard- one, two, or all- as well as about 2 tablespoons of fresh sage. Pop the sage into the pan and two minutes later about a 1/2 a cup of European Yogurt- that is, a yogurt slightly thinner in consistency than conventional yogurt. If you have a harissa or chipotle (or salsa!) and the desire, add a small amount. Two minutes later, add the greens, turn off the heat and cover for a sec.

Finally, pop it into one or two bowls and top with salt, pepper, a half a cup of wheaties or equivalent bran cereal, and a squeeze of lemon.

Place next to a cup of coffee and enjoy. 

Thoughts? To me, a recipe like this, a concoction if you will, conforms to no specific palate, bridging the gap between sweet, savory, tart and fresh that we often find ourselves having to choose  between each time we near a meal. There are times when falling wholly within one category is perfect- with a macaroon perhaps or a cup of tea, but more often than not, our taste buds ache for a melange of flavors. More often than not, dishes are improved by it, becoming more complex.  Turkey and cranberry sauce, sazeracs with orange and absinthe,  pickles on barbecue. 

The question then lies in how adventurous one is prepared to get when mixing and how far one can go without punching through to absurd. Is there a line and if so where and why? To compare it to modern art, where does the fashionable, Avante Garde end and the  art and the pile of bricks in a corner too far begin?

[jfineoriginal]

We're Sisters

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[defectiveprocyonid]

ive had chocolate covered potato chips before

8/10 pretty good would eat again

[sayattheexplorer]

Bourdain's beef tartare for a tv demo -- hilarious

The text is part of his contribution to 'How I learned to cook'! 

You know, for instance, before you leave your home city, that the equipment on location will be unreliable. When the producers say, "We have a full kitchen and all the tools you'll need," they usually mean, "We have a smelly, underpowered dollhouse electric stove and some donated crap-quality cookware that's still encrusted with the remnants of the camera assistant's reheated chili." When they say, "We can get all the ingredients you'll need," they mean, "If they don't have it at the local Stop & Shop—you're fucked. What is arugula any way?" When they say that your segment host is "a really adventurous eater" it means they like mayonnaise on their curly fries.

I learned this last lesson when I found myself feeding steak tartare to a regional "gourmet" host on yet another morning news and banter show. You know the one: unnaturally happy blond cohosts in fright makeup, pausing between anecdotes of their weekend and sips of coffee to read news stories. Often there's a "chef" on these programs—some hapless burnout from a nearby country club kitchen—typically with a cheery moniker like "The Sexually Repressed Greengrocer" or "The Prozac-Gobbling Gourmet" who makes the occasional appearance to signal the advent of rhubarb season, or to show people how to make their bundt cake uglier. They are introduced to visiting chefs as "Our chef . . ." who is (of course) "happy to help you with anything you need." They usually hover in the distance, glowering at you from their dim cubicles, exuding failure, smashed hopes, with only the prospect of a return to a lonely apartment populated by one too many cats in their future. The crews love them, though. They give them bundt cake. I thought the steak tartare was a shrewd idea. I wouldn't have to rely on the studio for any cooking equipment. I'd bring my own plates, my own locally (and easily) acquired ingredients. I had a metal ring and a knife and a spatula in my kit. I figured to chop the steak by hand— impressing with my fast, furious, and

precise knife work. I'd quickly fold in the mustard, capers, chopped cornichons, and shallots, swirl in the egg yolk, and neatly shape the result in the metal ring. A few pre toasted croutons would make it easy for my host to take an on-camera taste. "Mmm! Now that's tartare!" Retire to the hotel to the sound of deafening kudos . . . Didn't happen. Apparently, the practice of eating raw meat had not penetrated this far into America's interior. News of mad cow disease had reached the state, however, because the host looked on in terror as I forced the uncooked egg and beef concoction into the metal ring, the idea dawning on her that yes . . . yes . . . she would be required to eat this thing absolutely raw. The word Ewww! actually escaped from her lips as she tenuously reached for a meat smeared crouton. Like a nun giving a blow job, she took the tiniest nibble, fighting the urge to gag—her head swimming with images of spongi form bacteria riddling her brain, turning it into swiss cheese. When the segment was over and she'd spit the tiny taste out into a trash bin, she fixed me with a look of such pure loathing that it haunted my dreams. (A vengeful and enraged morning-show host invading your dream scape is a terrifying image, believe me.)

Witherspoon, Kimberly; Meehan, Peter (2008-12-09). How I Learned To Cook: Culinary Educations from the World's Greatest Chefs (pp. 79-81). Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. Kindle Edition.