fanny.

This is homemade fan-dried warm-smoked salmon with charcoal-grilled corn and greens with apples, walnuts and dried cherries. If I could have this again tonight I would.

UPDATE: Jeepers, it's actually a Booby Flay recipe. It was great.

growlers.

To an American beer drinker, a "growler" is a big ol' jug for transporting craft beer. To a British person, a "growler" is an unruly female pubic area, in general not a compliment, so they'd undoubtedly find the "Growler Tasting Choices" bit hilaaaariously funny.

404.

I'm in the ATL. Above: the standard welcoming antipasti at Tomanek Assisted Living & Bar and Grill. Below: it's Durians Weekend starting today, and I am the cook for the first night. I roasted yet another pork shoulder (Boston butt they call it here) and split it into poblano chile pork and ancho chile pork, to be served with corn tortillas, red onions, pico de gallo, maybe pineapple-serrano salsa, etc etc etc. The pork took about 5 hours at 325F, longer than I'd planned, so Dennis and I were smashing garlic and squeezing limes from 22:30 to 23:30 last night.

They're both super-simple recipes, the red is just six or eight whole pureed anchos plus guajillo and chipotle powders; the green is four fire-roasted poblanos, a can of tomatillos, and a handful of chopped pickled jalapenos. Plus an onion and half a head of garlic each. They both use the same seasoning from the shoulder I did in Phoenix (cumin, oregano, cinnamon, clove, black pepper). The red has an extra pinch of cinnamon; the green has a touch of honey and lime.

le grill.

It's my dad's birthday today. Yes, 9/11. Whenever one of the twins asks "Why is everyone so sad today?" we tell them "Because it's Poppy's birthday."

That's him on the left, in 1984 maybe, with my darling sister.

+++

It should be obvious by this point that no wondrous blogging is going to happen before I leave Phoenix: too much to do. Both real things to do like going to basketball games and grocery shopping and iCloud troubleshooting, and non-real things to do like watching an entire day of NFL football with the parentals. Two days in a row.

My dear boy J-Kim occasionally talks about spending the entire day on the couch watching football soccer, and I usually shake my head or tsk at him parentally, but....I have re-seen the light: man, that's a mindlessly relaxing day. Somehow it even feels like you accomplished something.

It totally took me back to my pre-responsibility American Sundays (so, ages 8 through 23?) when I'd wait all morning for NFL Today (the pre-game chit-chat) to come on at noon, then watch the 1pm game til 4pm, then watch the 4pm game til 7pm, and sometimes there'd even be another game afterwards. Sheer lazy bliss.

Of course all of this NFL action requires food. I made a handful of nice things during the 400,000 commercials, and I'll document them here soon.

+++

doubleheader.

I'd love to have a Celebrity Deathmatch between La Perla's Calabrese di Spilinga (buffalo mozzarella, 'nduja, tomato sauce, chile oil) and Pizzeria Bianco's Rosa (Parmesan, red onion, rosemary, crushed pistachio, excellent olive oil).

A Deathmatch hosted by my mouth, every seven days or so. Today at Bianco we also had a Margherita (tomato, homemade mozzarella, basil) for benchmarking purposes and a Wiseguy (fennel sausage, homemade mozzarella, onions) to taste the sausage, but the Rosa made everything else fade into the background, it's pretty perfect.

So, stellar pizza, the Rosa is probably in my top 3 of all time; the Margherita, top 10 (the Wiseguy not at all, weirdly bland). But what would I think if we'd had to wait an hour or two for a table? Today we just showed up and walked in and were eating about 15 minutes later. The consensus among us was that we'd be happy to eat there again, but we probably wouldn't go out of our way to do it and we definitely wouldn't wait in line.

america's taco shop.

In writing about La Condesa, I said that I'd had better tacos since I'd been in town. Those better tacos would be Barrio Queen and America's Taco Shop (remember that the "America" here is a woman's name, not flag-waving).

When I first put ATS on my list of targets a couple years ago, there were only two or three locations. Now it's expanded into a real, franchised chain, they're popping up all over the place. I popped myself into one of the original locations downtown b/c I happened to be in the hood.

I think it was around 3pm, it was definitely hot as balls outside (I walked 3 or 4 blocks to get there, so, you know, ten minutes b/c Phoenician blocks are mammoth), I was the only person there, I ordered one taco al pastor (left, with avocado and pineapple) and one carne asada. The al pastor was great, better than Barrio Queen's, but the carne asada left me wondering if I really like carne asada at all: it's just overcooked beef, thinly sliced. Salsa, radish, and lime helped a lot though: anyway, they were $2.50 each or something, a nice little lunch.

I would love to hit Filiberto's just for comparison's sake today since it's right around the corner, but we're going to Pizzeria Bianco for lunch and my CRON can't handle it.

+++

glazed, i.

Eyes glazing over due to an incredibly sloppy and/or over-officiated Arizona-Seattle game (21 penalties in all). During yet another commercial, it appears that I am, yes, baking. Mmm, ok, not really, I'm making a glaze, for this.

+++

strawberry.black.

After basketball at the Y yesterday, dad and I went into downtown Phoenix for some shopping and to drop in on La Condesa's salsa bar.

I expected counter service only, but there were tables and waitresses and yes all the normal restaurant things, plus one non-normal restaurant thing: at the back of the room to the right of the serious-looking woman there's a salad bar-looking thing that contains 12 or 14 salsas.

Our first trip to the salsa bar yielded (from left): seven chile; salsa roja; pink radish; jicama/scallion; strawberry; chipotle; peanut; pecan. I thought they were all fresh and well-executed, though a couple of them probably stretched the definition of "salsa", notably the very crema-like pecan salsa (far right). Dad was totally smitten by the strawberry salsa, he tried to get some to take home but they don't do that.



If I say that the tacos themselves were my least favorite since I've been here, that's not really a negative review at all, I've just been eating very well. I had the black mole chicken (front) and a beer-battered whitefish with slaw, temporarily vegan dad had a poblano/mushroom thing. Like I said, these were fine by themselves, but they were elevated into the "good" bracket by the salsa overload...but I mean for me eight good salsas could turn a dusty pebble into a satisfying lunch.

shoot.

No lie, this is where I was at 8am. That's my nephew Cole wearing #14. It was actually pretty great fun: I haven't been to a live game in so long I forgot that in real life the players can actually hear you shouting at them.

Now off to downtown Phoenix for a little shopping and a little La Condesa, winner of Best Salsa in last year's New Times Best Of 2011.

+++

ha ha, boobie.

So those wonderfully tranquil and vacation-y pictures of me playing in the pool with the dogs were taken this morning. The above picture was taken in the front yard just after 5pm.

You know in the movies, typically desert-based movies, sometimes somebody looks off into the distance and a horrified look takes over their features and they yell "عاصفة رملية" (or probably something more colloquial) and the main English-speaking character looks around in bewilderment saying, "What? What's he saying?" and then finally the main character turns around to see a looming, giant mile-high cloud of sand approaching with silent, ominous swiftness.

Well that's what happened here today, minus the cinematic clichés. Here they call it a haboob, and I must say it's pretty cool.

+++

blake and greta.

drive.

If you've never been to the American Southwest, you might think from these pictures that I'm hanging out in the "desert-y" area of Phoenix. No, it all looks like this. You can't find a part of Phoenix that doesn't look like this, vegetation-wise. Well Scottsdale has more greenery, but it's not exactly natural.

killer joe, barrio queen.

Saw Killer Joe at 11am, let's call it "bracing"? Not perfect, but the 2nd half just spirals furiously into an awfully dark and awfully funny endgame, super well-written, and yes I had to peek through my fingers twice towards the very end out of actual, visceral fear. I'm not even going to talk about the chicken leg. We left the theater a bit giddy and weirdly satisfied, like after a real-life rollercoaster ride.

+++

Then: it was $2 Taco Tuesday at Barrio Queen, so, yes, all tacos $2. We had, uh, 10 of them between the two of us. If memory serves, they would be:

1. chicken/chorizo/poblano/pine nut cream
2. steak/huitlacoche 
3. nopales/fried egg 
4. fried fish/slaw
5. fried shrimp
6. cochinita pibil
7. al pastor (pork + pineapple)
8. another fried fish
9. another fried shrimp
10. rajas (roasted peppers)

My first taco (chicken/chorizo) was the reason we had ten of them, it was perfect. There were some disappointments (huitlacoche, boring; rajas, unpleasantly bitter), but the eight good ones were really good. 

seer, sucker.

After today's family lunch, a salad seemed appropriate, and it seemed especially appropriate to assemble it from the abundant leftovers. Leftovers or "surplus food" in this house is/are not what I'm used to. At any given moment there are challenging amounts of excellent foodstuffs approaching uselessness, so it's pretty easy to throw something together that rocks relatively well.

+++

shrimp, spinach, misc leftovers. 

cooked shrimp designed for shrimp cocktail
fresh spinach on its last legs
ripe nectarines, cut
almonds, toasted and coarsely crushed
manchego, shaved thin
red onion, sliced wafer-thin
texas pete's honey-mustard sauce
small batch chipotle-infused olive oil
rice vinegar

+++

labor day.

Flexeril still working wonders on my sleep, I feel like a new man, or at least the man I was a few weeks ago.

Today is Labor Day in America, a holiday which for many people involves grilling large pieces of meat outdoors and highly social get-togethers with ze family and friends. And obviously drinking copious amounts of low-impact beer. I will only be doing the family social option b/c it is way too hot outside to grill during the day here. And because, well, this is a wine household.

AND, because some voracious-type meat-eaters are coming over today, I slow-cooked a giant pork shoulder last night (pictured below, vegetarians and temporarily vegan dad avert your eyes) and this morning I am metamorphosizin' it into green chile pork using those fresh-roasted Bueno New Mexican chiles from a few posts ago. I flat-out done stole some recipe ideas from a lot of places and what's happening seems pretty good so far, so I'm going to make a note or two below.

+++

green chile pork.

2 tbsp ground cumin
1 tbsp oregano
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp chipotle chile powder
1 tbsp ancho chile powder
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp black pepper


one 3.5lb boneless pork shoulder


juice of 3 limes
1 dark beer
1 cup chicken broth
3 large onions, chopped

two thingies green chiles
smoked sea salt
ground black pepper
whole cumin seeds, toasted and ground, to taste
3 to 6 cloves garlic, pressed


+++

Make a rub from the first six ingredients and rub it into the pork. Brown pork on all sides, I did mine on the grill. Put pork and limes, beer, broth, and onions in a crock pot, cover, and cook in a 325F oven for 3.5 or 4 hours. I let mine cool overnight in the fridge.

Next morning, shred your pork, a little or a lot. Return pork to pan/pot, taste to correct seasoning and then add garlic and reduce over low heat for as long as it takes to taste right.

+++

chipperer.

Yay for Flexeril, finally some sleep. Lunch today will not be at one of these places, but somewhere chosen by big poppy.

sixteen candles.

I know my brain is fucked when, if trying to write, I sit looking at a blank page for more than 30 seconds or so. Nine hours' sleep in the last three days is beginning to wear on a brother. 

However: my dear mother went to bed at about 9:30 last night and awoke today at around 8am. This is a lot of sleep, even for her, and when I asked what her secret is, she said Flexeril, a prescription muscle relaxant. Tonight? I will be taking a Flexeril. I asked her if it made her groggy or disoriented but then we just laughed because how would we ever be able to tell. Bitch don't even know how her camera work. 

+++

If I can just get through today. Today we have a day with The Boys, but they are out shopping at the moment so all is quiet. They are, get this, "hitting a few garage sales". This is their new thing. I'm too tired to harass them about it. 

+++