Hooray!

I have a ton of veggies in the fridge, and dammit! I'm gonna eat them! Carrots, mushrooms, broccoli, cauliflower, onion, fresh garlic. Oh, and pork. Sweet, sweet pork....

Off-Brand Foods

Your creativity makes up for the slightly metallic taste.

Adulthood

I realized I had become an adult when I started eating my Totino's pizza on a plate, and not off of the box it came in.

FestFest in Chicago

It’s summertime in Chicago and people go apeshit over the warm weather. Restaurant patios are packed with diners who must sit outside (or they’ll wither and die) and the shore of Lake Michigan is lousy with crispy, pork-skin sun tans and tribal sun tats. It’s also festival season.

Much like dry food goods, I prefer a cool, dry environment so I have not participated in most of these events. I accidentally slept through RibFest and I deeply regret it. Every weekend, there are music festivals, art fests, food fests, and I’m willing to bet that somewhere in the country right now, it’s Lobster Fest. It’s always Lobster Fest.

This evening, I went to the Taste of Randolph Street in the West Loop, motivated by the food offerings as well as to give the me-shaped indent in my bed a chance to fluff back up. It was a $10 suggested donation, so I read that as “pay upon approval.” I went with my neighbor, a horticulturalist who has lived in the city for quite some time and knows it well. We decided to walk the length of the festival from the outside to smell the sights and get a better picture of what was being offered. If you guessed roasted corn and Miller Lite in plastic cups, give yourself one point. As we entered, the ticket-taker asked for our ten dollars, whereupon I mentioned the “suggested“ part of “suggested donation.” She cut me off before I could say anything further and snapped, “No, it’s ten dollars.” Then I punched her in the boob and gave her ten bucks. One of those things didn’t actually happen. Minus one point for me. I’d say I’m too nice because I’m from Arizona, but that just doesn’t sound right.

Still sour from the ten-dollar-donation issue, the food prices added insult to injury. I was expecting modestly priced snacks, but the only foods under $5 were chips and guac, a scoop of sorbet (apparently, boring is a flavor), and bottled water. Sigh. We cruised the length of the festival-this time from within- taking note of the small menus at the restaurant booths. My food requirements were simple- meat and mobility. I ended up paying eight bones for a “gyro cone” and it WASN’T A CONE, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!? Take a point off, middle-eastern restaurant whose name escapes me. Then add a point for being tasty, but take it off again for giving me the vegetable scoop with only onions and no peppers.

The fair was book ended by two music stages. One was occupied by some fusion-funk-jam band that was, when I was listening, in the throes of an extended dopey trombone solo. The other was hosting the 90’s sensation Superchunk. It was this area that seemed to be where Generation-X got put out to pasture. Baby strollers being pushed by glassy-eyed fathers in Yo La Tengo and Pixies t-shirts. Rockabilly tattoos peeking out from Old Navy khakis.

There were really four kinds of people there- those who came to get drunk on light beer and listen to Superchunk, teenagers drinking backwashed booze from discarded cups, people yelling at their kids, and people showing off their dogs. Now, if I still had my sweet Homer, I would fall into the latter group without question (minus one for me being openly gay for dogs)* because he’s fucking adorable (redeem point). But where are my like-minded homegirls who just want to eat some popcorn shrimp under a shady tree and laugh at the new money Indian dudes with faux-hawks and too much Ed Hardy cologne?

Maybe I’m just not Festival People.

*Figure of speech. Sit down.

Food Memory

I was at the age when children were begging their parents to take them to McDonalds. But where most kids would demand a Happy Meal and some time to tear shit up at their playground, I'd say Fuck that. My six year-old ass wanted a McRib sandwich.

At that time in McRib history, there was some issue over the actual "meat" used in its making. Several people in New York and Long Island had found rat feet and fur in their faux-BBQ delight.

This brings me to one of my earliest food memories- throwing a fit because my mother would cut up the McRib and check for rat parts before she'd let me eat it. The craziest part of this is that due to my young age and only partial understanding of the news, I thought the McRib was rat meat. This in no way bothered me. I assumed the feet and fur just meant you got a bad slice.

Despite my impatience, I guess I should be grateful that ultimately, my mother did let me enjoy my ratmeat sandwich. Even if her dissection had ruined its rib-shaped patty appearance.

What's your weirdest childhood food memory?

Returned to Manny's

And it was amazing, as usual.

Stabby's Corner with Erica S. Vol. I

Welcome to the first edition of Stabby’s Corner with Erica S.!

This entry is a little different from what I envisioned for my corner, but this was an experience worth documenting.

So let’s talk about cakes. This Friday, I have a Rotaract party that some genius made a vegetarian potluck. So…no pigs in a blanket (they’re missing out). I pondered long and hard (ha) on what to bring, and I remembered that I made a cake for the end of my friend’s first year of law school! It was fun(fetti) and delicious, so why not do the same?

Then I watched Food Network Challenge: Toy Story 3 cakes.

Fast forward two hours and I had four cake pans in the oven, corn syrup, four pounds of powdered sugar, Crisco up to the elbows, imitation vanilla (because the clear stuff was nowhere to be found in Jewel, and the real stuff is too expensive, anyway), and a dash of salt….guesses as to what this creates? FONDANT.

Also, please refrain from calling it “fonDANT” in my presence. FONdant.

1) Who are you?

2) Get over yourself.

Fast forward past Melanie’s pastrami sandwich (we get it…you like Manny’s), and the hours it took for me pick out fondant stamps (we’ll not go down this road), and I’m home again, with four chilled cakes to equal two tiers.

I wish I took a picture of the inside (more on why later), but if you care, each tier is one half white cake and one half devil’s food cake. So, those at the party who “only like chocolate” can suck it. It looks cooler this way.

Michael’s has a great cake decoration aisle, where I picked up some icing dye to color my fondant. If you haven’t had the pleasure of working with icing dye, it’s actually a gel that you knead into the fondant. I suppose food coloring is too watery. Too bad I bought some before going to Michael’s…Listen. Chicago is great. But to return the food dye, I have to either walk a mile to the store, or wait for a bus. This place also has a parking lot, rubbing my face in the fact that my almost brand new car is in Tucson.

Whatever.

So, here I go, ripping off a chunk of fondant I made earlier, and coloring it green. Like, green for grass. Get it? Melanie says, “make it more solid!” I say, “…” She says, “You know what I mean. It’s translucent right now. Not like you can see through it, but you know what I mean.” I say, “…” So I make something that is already clearly solid…more solid.

Tossing down a small handful of powdered sugar, I roll out the fondant to approximately 13.5” by 13.5” and…it’s stuck to the table. And again. And again. And again. At this point, maybe 20 minutes after starting, I’m getting red faced and pissed off. So I move into the kitchen and work on the counter top, instead. More powdered sugar, and more failure! I start down a familiar and comfortable path, finding some way to blame my failings on my sister. This makes me feel better. :D

Blah blah blah, about an hour after my first roll out, Melanie and I finally get the fondant on the cake. Hellllllll yeah.

The red was a little easier, because we had a system at this point. I roll, Melanie rolls it onto the roller, and I unroll onto the cake. A sort of bing bam boom thing.

STACKING TIME!!!!!!!! Now, I both forgot to buy wooden or plastic dowels and decided not to get them. Mistake number 1 (…sure). The top tier is too big. Well, shit. I did not anticipate that happening! So, here is the part of the story that explains why the top tier’s fondant cover is so weird looking. I actually cut the cake down on two sides, then patched it up. I’d say I was close to crying by the end of this, but the truth is, I was closer to putting my fist or someone’s face through a wall. The only saving grace is that when I cut into the cake, the two tier’s looked really cool stacked on each other. I’ll take a picture when we finally cut into the cake tomorrow night.

Cakes stacked, my blood pressure dangerously high, I start up with that black band around the bottom of the red tier. Initially, the cakes were supposed to emulate a lady bug on grass. Hence, green on bottom and red on top. But because of the DISASTER that is the top tier, that went out the window.

(I just found a piece of fondant on the hinge of my computer.)

Black dye looks great! But my hands are still tinted a weird color after kneading dye into the fondant. Oh, by the way, somewhere in this part of the story, Melanie offers some advice. It was not received well. Also, I lost a piece off of the tool that cuts strips of fondant. I looked and looked and got really mad and cursed a lot. Seems to be a theme, hmm? Now you understand why this is called, “Stabby’s Corner with Erica S.”

Light bulb moment said to put green leaves on the red, and red leaves on the bottom. Making the leaves was fun, since I bought little punchy things. Although, Melanie said that the leaf in the leaf with the leaf punched out looks like a vagina. I dunno. I think it looks like a leaf.

So, I started this process at about 10am. It was probably 11:30pm. I was exhausted. Eff the red leaves, and on went stems for the fake flowers (like I could make gum paste flowers that look that nice…), a black, grassy border, and DONE!!!!

14 hours after I left my house to buy the cake mix, I was finally finished. And you know what? So was the frosting inside the cake. Sitting out for hours, the frosting had melted, and wasn’t holding the shape it was supposed to. Who cares. Take a picture, smile, and get my ass in bed.

Here’s me and my zombie hand with the finished product.

Shaw's Crab House- Update

So, Stabby McSister works there now. Can we all take a moment and pray she doesn't physically assault the dim-witted 18 year-old hostess/eyecandy (who has made the mistake of talking down to her) before I get my 50% off Sunday brunch? Thanks.

About my sister

She may be mean, but she makes a handsome cake. Not bad for a first attempt at a fondant cake, right? ("mean," that is to say, she ignored all my out-of-this-world cake decorating ideas).

Glenn's Diner

Tuesday is all-you-can-eat king crab day. I had seven of these bad boys, and I feel little to no shame in admitting it. Supposedly, the record for ultimate crab gluttony is 21 legs. Glenn's also has all-you-can-eat nights for ribs and shrimp (garlic or spicy). The crab legs came with a ramekin of butter, lemon, cole slaw and a corn cobette. The corn was a treat- buttered up with Parmesan cheese- but the slaw was way too wet and neither crisp nor refreshing.

As for the legs, they were sweet and rich. I imagine it's hard to mess up a crab leg- just steam it, right? Maybe. I had a partial leg that was, well, odd. I think it was either cooked way too long or was too close to the heat. The meat, or surrounding "fat" (I really don't know what it's called/is, sorry) was a greenish-gray and had an odd flavor that said "Just throw me in the shell bucket and carry on." And so I did. But this was hardly an obstacle and the meal was fantastic. Not only did the crab keep coming at a very acceptable pace, I did not cut my fingers on the spines the whole evening (special applause).

I want to also point out that the service at Glenn's (I have been there twice) is exceptionally friendly and accommodating. They had run out of legs the first time we went and offered to comp our meal (I went with the ribs and was very satisfied). This time around, we made a reservation, and from that phone call to the check-dropping everyone working there had a great sense of humor and there was nothing we needed that wasn't first offered by our server (more soda, butter, legs, sides, etc.) Also, the music was a delight- mostly 70's funk. And don't get me started on their cereal selection. Their regular menu looks fun as well. Definitely worth the half-hour bus ride!

Cheese!!

Two aged Goudas (cow and goat) and a tasty brie. I totally forgot the names because I misplaced my receipt, but two are from Holland and Ireland. My sister and I went to Pastoral and they had a decent selection of cheese, cured meats and wine (also wine and cheese accessories, like crackers and jams). The staff was helpful and attractive, but I might have a bias toward men selling me fine cheeses.

Fun fact- The "crispies" in hard cheese is called "grana" and is a result of the aging process. You're welcome.

More photos from Dim Sum

We ate at the Happy Chef in Chinatown. Our feast included, but was not limited to- crab Rangoon, shrimp and crab spring rolls, pork rice rolls, shrimp shumai, steamed pork buns, crispy noodles, pork in a flaky pastry, "dinosaur eggs", and fried tofu.

The dinosaur eggs were a surprise treat- ground beef and vegetables surrounded by sticky, sweet rice cake (think mochi) then fried so it had a light and crisp outside.

The fried tofu (the photo of golden cubes) is still leaving me wondering. I have had Japanese fried tofu, where it was more like a tempura, and the tofu was still, well, tofu-y inside. This kind was fried all the way through, making them into curious airy bites that collapse inside your mouth. There was a weird aftertaste that I found unpleasant, and makes me think that it had been fermented before it was fried. I will say that the dish smelled amazing- the tofu was tossed in chopped garlic, sliced Asian green pepper and red pepper paste.

Regarding chicken feet...

You never know until you try it, right? Did you know you eat the whole foot, including the bones? I did, but tried it anyway. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it tasted like slimy chicken skin- not the crispy fried kind- with a very unpleasant, bony surprise. The bones were pliable and spongy and had a gritty chew. The whole time I was chowing down on these feet, my palate and my brain were in a heated discussion over whether this mouth sensation was an accident to be rejected (see: eating fried chicken in the dark) or a new weirdness to be embraced. I ate the foot, but speaking to my mom later- keep in mind she is a real live Asian whom I have seen eat some weird shit over the years- she said, "Eew, even I don't eat that!" Sigh.

I'm gonna have to side with Shoko and Mr. Horse on this one. No rating, due to my Westerner's palate (who knows, it could have been some amazing chicken feet to those who don't consider it bizarre)

FYI- The gray, jelly-like items accompanying the feet are spare ribs. But not the kind enjoyed by you and I, friend.

Manny's

I'm afraid this picture does not do this sandwich justice- it was way bigger. I'll come back and write more specifically later once the meat-itis subsides and I stop groaning. The facts- this is a pastrami Reuben from Manny's. To be more accurate, it's half a Reuben, since I ate the other half without a thought of taking a photo, nor thoughts of anything else, really. The other half-eaten food is a potato latke, with a small cup of applesauce for dipping. The other photo is pie.

Flavor Bang No.3

"Green" Fettuccine Alfredo. Chicken, spinach, broccoli, mushrooms and garlic with Alfredo sauce, served over fettuccine. Yum!