snowangel

Question, Klink. With the warm day today, that rack of ribs (pork, spareribs, not babybacks) looked mighty appealing today. With weather forcast what it is down here, I will smoke them either tomorrow or Friday. When should I brine them? If I stick them in brine and can't smoke them tomorrow, should I take them out or just leave them in?

My first one was New Year's week on an island off Phuket in Thailand, and it was Mekong. Those that have had, will know. A swim in the warm waters does wonders. Don't remember (thank you Mekong) much else. Growing up in Thailand in the late 60's/early 70's, liquor was not the prevalent inebrient

Oohh! As a Woman Who Loves Power Tools and Fire, thanks for the suggestion! I have a mess of anaheim's I want to roast, and this certainly seems like more fun that the broiler!

Yes, AlexP, thanks for sharing the memory. My folks visit my sister in Berkeley a couple of times a year, and they always return bearing anchovies. I find all kinds of ways to use them, most noted above. My family says they hate them. Little did they know that that quick tomato sauce I whipped up last week to serve over pasta was a little weak or lacking, so in went some anchovie paste (pasted by me). They raved! I didn't tell. Nor, do I tell them how often I add to dressings, etc.

My way old (circa late 50's early 60's) Joys of Jell-O cookbook has a whole mess of doozies, some even featuring celery flavored Jell-O. The real doozie is barbeque salad, featuring barbeque cubes (lime jello, tomato sauce, vinegar), cubed and served over a fed of greens. Possible salad additions include mayo, cottage cheese, shrimp, crab, a can of tuna, etc.

Fishing where and for what? Heels of bread, buttered, and in a bag are wonderful out on the lake in a tin boat...

In honor of this thread, just toasted myself two slices of Acme double levain and slavered them with Hope Butter. Carbs rule. Guess who won't be hungry for dinner?

Klink smoke Butt, brisket, whatever. He is word.

Now is the time for video on eG!

Would it make a difference in how finely one grated the cheese?

We've been "lucky" here in MInnesota. Very cold and snowy, so a stint on the back stoop quickly puts stock into that frozen solid state, which I do believe is safe, and keeps taste proper. But, an 8 quart batch of stock is certainly a bitch to chop and put into smaller zip lock bags.

The one here with the burned palm and top of hand blames it on the fact that I have three kids who are all clamoring for my attention at one time . Either that or I can't focus on my "don't pick up pan without potholder" mantra.

As I repeat my mantra "use potholders when pulling hot skillet out of oven" I did what I mantraed (is that a verb?) not to do. Dropped skillet on rack, raised hand to upper oven rack. Burn on palm and top of hand. Nicely blistered on both sides, I might add. But, I have never strained stock down drain

Hey -- how's about that Texas comfort food fave, King Ranch Chicken???? Bingo. Great Idea. Everybody likes it and when they become Jr. Leaguers they will have one more dish in their repetoire for luncheon. Not to mention church suppers, and school potlucks, and "carry dish" weddings and funerals. Oh yeah. Got to know how to make up a pan of this stuff if you wanna raise a family in Texas. Or in Minnesota, land of potlucks and "hot dish." My grocery carries Ro-Tel in two areas -- canned vegetables and the Mexican section.

I know where to eat next time I'm in Burnsville...

Geez. I don't have a Costco membership, but the house we have made an accepted offer on (that's just about to evaporate) is within blocks of a Costco. Problem is that I can't seem to tolerate any shopping area that has more than 20 parking places. And, I love things in small packages. What's a woman to do? Suck it up? Pay the membership? But, the appeal of a virtual meal with the bestest of the bestest has it's appeal. So, do I include the cost of the membership into the meal? P. S. What is Stagg Creek chili and Bear Creek whatever?

Beer. Aren't hops a grain?

Every spring, countless places that serve pizza and whatever (often a combo of chow mein and pizza )have "smelt fries." My husband, fishing and local fish expert says "you don't want smelt. If you have to have them, head and gut them and deep fry them." While Paul does not cook (another He That Only Eats, Suzanne), he knows what to do (and what not to do) with game. Paul's other comment was "$2/pound? That's the clue..."

People are reporting good luck with the Mock Porchetta. I made it this Saturday and even though it turned out tasty enough, it did not go according to recipe or become carmelized like I wanted. Judy R mentions rolling the veggies in the rendered fat after an hour, well, I had none of that tasty stuff. In fact, I hardly had any fat. Is there a trick in buying the pork shoulder I should know? It certainly wasn't like roasting a chicken where there's always plenty of fat. Also, this was my first time cooking fennel and I thought it would be like celery and cook down - wrong! You could hardly chew the stuff. Now I wonder if that is because I should have peeled it? Any advice out there? When buying a pork shoulder, buy the one with the biggest fat cap. Start with fat cap down, then after one hour, turn to fat cap up. Fat is good. Fat is better than good; it is sublime. Pork fat rules. Bacon grease, rendered shoulder fat, whatever.

It would have been at The Cabin. I arrived with four kids in tow, and inadvertently forgot the coffee (I did remember wine and vodka and whisky). There were two many year old packets of one-pot pre-ground hazelnut coffee packets laying around. I had to drink the alcohol to get rid of the lack-of-caffine-headaches. I really hate flavored coffee. It's far worse when it's really old. Lack of good coffee drove me across the lake to a phone (something I really hate to do) and get my husband up to said cabin a day early so I could have coffee. That's love.

Mangosteens. Sadly unavailable in Minneapolis.

Agreed on sandwiches, but certain foods like peaches and the butter on super fresh corn on the cob are meant to run down ones arms...

I heard a rumor that the sun even shines there But, we have an Ice Palace. So there!

Oh, Bacon! Bacon, oh bacon, the most luxurious of foods. How do I love thee, let me count the ways. You come to me all smoky and salty not wrapped in cryovac from the supermarket, but from the meat market wrapped in butcher paper, cut to specs. You never fail me. Fried crispy/squishy, eaten plain. Eaten as a bacon sandwich – bacon sandwiched between bacon. Call me a heretic, but I’ve also enjoyed you between slices of Acme levain, toasted, with mayo, lettuce and heirloom tomatoes. For breakfast (leave that rendered grease in the pan for fried eggs…a fresh egg fried in your renderings render me to a quivering pile.) What bite is first – the bacon or the egg; the bacon wins out every time. Alongside cinnamon rolls or sticky buns, your salty smokiness cuts the cloying sweetness. Perfection. Braised ala Zuni Café Cookbook. Double or triple the recipe and the cook is happy. Fried crisp, crumbled and incorporated into carbonara , armatriciana, in salads. I’ve learned to cook more than the dish needs because the cook’s needs are of a smoked and salty and porcine nature. And, oh, that fat you render. Too precious to toss, it goes into a special container. Toss you with Brussels sprouts prior to roasting. Or potatoes. Or carrots. Or for cooking popcorn. Or in salad dressings. Or a vehicle for mire poix. The remainders sprinkled over chowder, potato/leek soup. They are transformed from a soup into something voluptuous. Your rendered fat does a wonderful job of replacing melted butter in pancakes or waffles. Or in cornbread, muffins. You multi-task like no other food. Oh, and that aroma. No over-stove vent fan on for me while you are cooking. I inhale your every scent with lust, anticipating your taste, your essence. Only once was I betrayed, but a hostess who served brunch, and horrors of horrors, each guest was served but one, one lonely strip of generic bacon. My dismay! Bacon, my love affair with my husband goes back some almost 30 years. My love affair with you goes back to baby-hood. Bacon, oh bacon, how do I love thee? I cannot begin to count the ways.

AlexP, where in Minneapolis did you score fresh sardines?