FYI...I started this post the morning after dinner and I just finished it (a week + later)
It's 9:30 am post per se, and I am overcome with the feeling of never wanting to eat again. Mostly I feel this way because I had a nine course dinner (plus little extras) starting at 10 pm last night. What struck me by dinner last night is that it was the first really fancy dinner that seemed like real american food. No hamburgers or anything, but a salsa/goat cheese course?! Dessert wasn't some fancy french pastry thing, but a heavenly chocolate/hazelnut almost ganache-like thing (but believe me, I will get to dessert in a minute).
When I asked Jeff what he thought of dinner, he paused for a minute and then said "yeah, it was pretty good." Pretty good, huh? Every course was meticulously designed and crafted for flavor and texture combinations. I admit there were some that had me feeling like they were just dressing up some veggies from the corner store. But overall, the meal was incredibly impressive, clearly, if I felt like I never wanted to eat again, I certainly got enough good food to make me want to explode.
So let's start at the beginning...10 pm, Friday night (two Fridays ago). We were seated and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne (it's hard not to when they come up to your table and ask "so will you be starting with champagne?" really impossible to turn that offer down). Then a waitress came up to me with a little stool. Slightly confused (but not wanting to show my confusion), she set it down next to me (I really really really wanted it to be a foot rest so I could stretch out my legs under the table), I quickly realized it was for my purse. A seat for my purse. A seat....for my purse. ha!
We started browsing the menu and were informed that we could "mix and match" off of the vegetarian tasting menu and the regular tasting menu. We put together our dinner selections while they brought us these heavenly cheese balls. Cheese balls raised to the infinite power. I think it was brie, surrounded by a delightful pastry dough, which provided just the right crispiness to match the melty cheese. I could have eaten a hundred, but thankfully I was only given one because I definitely would have thrown up after dinner if I had more.
We ordered our dinner, and shortly after our food descended to our table (we hadn't however, received any bread yet, and were DYING, so we had to ask for some, slight point deduction, but not much). The first course was an oyster/caviar course. Jeff opted for some green soup thing (he REALLY must hate oysters if he opted for the green soup). All I have to say is that the oyster dish was my favorite of the night and the green soup tasted like garbage. Literally, spinach garbage. I was worried for a moment and then I went back to my oysters and melted away to caviar heaven. It was this creamy dish, almost like cream cheese, with the caviar providing little bursts of salty goodness. Amazing. A-maze-ing. Definitely the best course (besides dessert, but we'll get there) of the night.
I'm not sure I remember the order of all the courses (but I did write them all down so I would remember them), but I'll highlight the good stuff.
There was a red mullet fish dish, that was good, for what it was. I'm not a huge fan of red mullet, but the skin was perfectly crispy and had delightful accompaniments. That ended up being story of the meal for many of the courses (except dessert...we'll get there). While the main part of the dish would be good, it was always paired with a bunch of little accent tastes that enhanced the dish to levels not imaginable.
Foi gras was delightful, one of the best I've ever had. Unfortunately, I hate to admit it, but I very much enjoy the fattened duck liver. It's horrible, but it's not like I eat it every day (I've probably eaten it 4 times in my life -- although 3 of those were in the last year). But it was extremely creamy and had a rich wonderful flavor. As we started to eat the foi gras (I actually think it was right before we dug in, the waiters came out and brought us fresh warm brioche toast (we were served brioche toast when they served it to us originally). Apparently the first batch of brioche was no longer warm and therefore needed to be replaced. We postulated that they just did this to really make us feel like we were eating at a fancy place. Maybe it did taste better with warm toast, but they literally had just set it down, so they must have brought it out cold (or cool or whatever). They just wanted to show off their warm toast.
And then came the veal brain. Yup, that's right, little baby cow brains. Jeff opted out of this dish too, which was probably a good idea. In my defense I didn't really know what I was ordering when I ordered it, but I have to admit that I ate the whole thing (it was only one little piece). Jeff remembers it actually looking like a brain (all nobby and such), but my piece looked smooth to me. My mother-in-law, who is a medical examiner (and therefore sees brains on a regular basis) could not finish hers because it hit a little too close to home. But here's the kicker, I bet you're wondering what cow brain tastes like, right? It tastes like sushi. Yeah, that's right, cow brain tastes like sushi. I'm not sure if it was the texture, or there was some kind of salty crust or something on it (wow, that sounds disgusting, a salty crusted cow brain), but all I could think about was how much it tasted like sushi.
The last truly memorable course was the beef course (real, cooked beef). It was perfectly done, perfectly tasty and perfectly accompanied. Yes, it's true, a steak is only a steak, and I agree that they can only be so good, but when put with a perfect little onion and a potato puff thing, it becomes a whole different meal. Bites of onion and potato that are soft and tender but providing just the flavor punches needed for the steak.
There was a "cheese" course, which was goat cheese with a tomatillo salsa, moderately forgettable. It was just as I have described it. Then, blueberry sorbet, which again, was good, but had this crispy caramel thin pancake thing with it that I could stop myself from eating once I started, it was totally addictive.
So let's move quickly onto dessert. So the menu said something about chocolate and hazelnut torte or something. I was excited (because I LOVE LOVE LOVE chocolate and hazelnut), but I was not prepared for how crazy good it was going to be. It was really just a chocolate hazelnut mousse in an egg shape (like reese's easter peanut butter egg size, those big ones). But it was this airy, delightful, chocolately, hazelnutty treat. It melted away into my mouth and I didn't want any bite to end, but I soon came to the end of my dessert. Disappointed, my mother-in-law fended off Jeff's grubby hands and gave me hers. I plowed through her dessert before the waitress came back. When she did, she commented that it looked like I really liked the dessert and noted that I finished two of them. I was a little embarrassed but then she asked if I would like more. I turned a little red, but my father-in-law quickly answered in the affirmative for me, and off she went.
She returned with not one but TWO more chocolate hazelnut mousse dessert delights. oh, how I love thee (both the dessert and the waitress for bringing me more). This time, I didn't even try to savor them, I just devoured them. It probably would have been a good idea if I tried to savor them, then I would have thought about how full I was. But I didn't...I just kept eating. I pushed through. Then they brought out truffles: chocolate, coconut, etc... Well, I had to try those too...until I didn't feel so well anymore.
Just as I was started to feel like I REALLY overdid it, the waitress came back, and I started to get a little nervous (if she had more chocolate hazelnut then I'd HAVE to eat it, but I might have exploded if that were the case). She approached the table and began with an apology. She explained that the kitchen had thrown out the rest of the desserts (although we read that as: chefs and wait staff claimed the rest to take home, which is fine, they deserve it), but they did have some brownies leftover, which she handed to me all wrapped up in an extremely fancy goody bag. Twelve mini brownies all together PLUS they had given us these packages of meringue cookies. oh god. this is when I really started to feel like I OD'd.
I really had wanted to take a taxi home, but when I got up I knew that I had to walk home or I would simply fall over and die. We walked slowly home and each step I took I thought I was going to throw up. It was almost worse than drinking too much, except that I got to enjoy each bite with delight. We got home and I immediately had to go right to bed (I know that probably wasn't the best idea, but I could not stand being awake and feeling that way any longer).
All in all, an amazing dinner. I'm pretty darn lucky to have had the chance to go. Although, if you ever go, do NOT eat four desserts, even if you want to.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
A Tale of Two City Chickens
The last time I was home, my mom, aunt, grandmother and I were sitting around the kitchen table discussing cooking and recipes (in classic 50's television show fashion). Somehow we got on the topic of city chicken. I may have brought it up as I had recently been thinking about making it, but had no idea how to make it (nor did I even know what meat was in city chicken). Now, I know it sounds silly, it IS called city CHICKEN. But I was sure that it wasn't actually chicken. And I was right. City chicken is actually pork (which is very deceiving, hopefully no one ever went over to my parents house on city chicken night who didn't eat pork). How a pork product took cover under our poultry friend's name, I'm not actually sure. I think I asked once and the answer was something like, the people on the farm didn't have a lot so they tried to make their pork taste like chicken like the rich city folk.
Now no one in my family has ever lived on a farm, so I'm still not exactly clear on whether or not that was a BS story, but believe it or not, wikipedia has an entry on it. I'm stunned.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_chicken
..it says nothing about farm folk, but the idea is the same, so maybe it wasn't entirely a BS story...
So if you're still wondering what is city chicken exactly, essentially it is cut up bits of meat (my mom always made it with pork, but wikipedia seemed to think it could be any meat nugget) skewered on a stick, breaded and pan fried. Sounds simple, easy, and not really high class dining (obviously). But I remembered that it was always one of my favorites, so I really wanted to make it and see if it was really that good.
Which brings us back to my mom's kitchen table discussing how to make city chicken...
My mom and grandmother got into a HEATED debate over this, which was one of the funniest conversations ever, because the differences in their methodologies were very small. My aunt and I giggled about their argument for a good 5 minutes or so when finally my aunt cut them off and said that she thought they were really saying the same thing or something close to the same thing. Unfortunately I mostly remembered that they fought about it and not actually how they said to make it...but I did remember enough to make it tonight.
A few weeks ago I bought the skewers (I needed the shorter ones, although the long ones would work, I wanted it as authentic as possible), so I'd be ready whenever I wanted to make it. Tonight was finally the night. I pulled out the pork tenderloin to cut it up for breading. (yes, I realize this defeats the whole purpose...cheap meat made to taste good, but my mom said she uses tenderloin now) That was when Jeff walked into the kitchen and asked what was for dinner. When I explained to him what was for dinner he had a sad disappointed "what is she doing to my pork tenderloin" face, even when I quickly added that it was a childhood favorite of mine. He was definitely skeptical.
It was at this point that I realized that it would have been helpful if I would have listened to what my grandmother and mother said. Was it milk and then breadcrumbs? eggs and breadcrumbs? milk and eggs? flour first? no flour? all I could remember was that my mother would put them on the skewer first and then egg/milk them and then throw them into a bag with bread crumbs and let them sit, while my grandmother would put them on the skewer after breading and not let them sit. I guess that makes this a tale of three city chickens since I proceeded to do it my own way.
Not having a clue of how to actually make it, I decided to use one egg, a very hefty spash of milk and soak the pieces individually in a bowl (simply because that was easier than pulling out a large pan big enough to soak all of them already skewered) and then skewer them and then into a baggie with breadcrumbs. I didn't have time to let them sit post-breading, so I skipped that step.
I heated up a pan with olive oil and then realized this is probably a recipe that would be better with butter so I threw some of that in the pan too. I knew that my mom always sauteed them in a pan and then put them in the oven, so I cooked them a few minutes on each side and threw them into the oven in the pan. I checked them after a couple of minutes, they felt about medium so I took them out.
We dug hungrily into our dinner (city chicken + roasted sweet potatoes + salad) and I was afraid to try the city chicken (I think Jeff was still pretty skeptical himself) so I ate everything else off my plate. I was sure that it wouldn't be nearly as good as I remembered it. But I took my first bite and it was amazingly just as good as I remembered it. Jeff gave me his "this is good" look as he took a bite of the meat right off the stick. I reiterated "a childhood favorite" as he went for the third and final skewer from the kitchen. He was relieved to hear that this would become a more regular dinner meal for us.
Who would have thought that I could pull it off? So rarely do these kinds of meals taste just like I remember it as a kid, mostly because I think those types of favorite childhood recipes are primarily nostalgic. I'm also guessing that it doesn't actually matter how you make it, as long as there is breading and there is pork (at least if you want it to taste like the way my mom made it)...so mom and grammy: unfortunately, I think your argument was all for naught.
So it's not much of a recipe (clearly, you can do whatever you want to it and it'll taste good), but here's what I've got:
1/2 pound pork tenderloin, cut into ~1 inch cubes
1 egg
somewhere between 2-4 tablespoons of milk
~1/2 cup breadcrumbs
1 T olive oil
1 T butter (or 2 T butter, no oil)
Sprinkle the pork with salt and pepper. Somehow get the pork into the egg and then into the breadcrumbs (put it on a skewer first, then egg, or not, whatever, it doesn't matter). Heat oil and butter in pan and pre-heat oven to about 350 deg. Add the skewers to the pan and brown the pork on all sides (maybe 1-2 min per side) and then put the pan in the oven (make sure it's an oven safe pan) for about 5 - 10 minutes, until the pork gives just a touch for medium or is very firm for well done. I actually prefer it at room temperature (which may have actually been why it tasted so good, because it was the last thing I ate for dinner so it cooled significantly), so you can serve right away or wait until cooled a bit.
...and enjoy the chickenless city chicken!
Now no one in my family has ever lived on a farm, so I'm still not exactly clear on whether or not that was a BS story, but believe it or not, wikipedia has an entry on it. I'm stunned.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_chicken
..it says nothing about farm folk, but the idea is the same, so maybe it wasn't entirely a BS story...
So if you're still wondering what is city chicken exactly, essentially it is cut up bits of meat (my mom always made it with pork, but wikipedia seemed to think it could be any meat nugget) skewered on a stick, breaded and pan fried. Sounds simple, easy, and not really high class dining (obviously). But I remembered that it was always one of my favorites, so I really wanted to make it and see if it was really that good.
Which brings us back to my mom's kitchen table discussing how to make city chicken...
My mom and grandmother got into a HEATED debate over this, which was one of the funniest conversations ever, because the differences in their methodologies were very small. My aunt and I giggled about their argument for a good 5 minutes or so when finally my aunt cut them off and said that she thought they were really saying the same thing or something close to the same thing. Unfortunately I mostly remembered that they fought about it and not actually how they said to make it...but I did remember enough to make it tonight.
A few weeks ago I bought the skewers (I needed the shorter ones, although the long ones would work, I wanted it as authentic as possible), so I'd be ready whenever I wanted to make it. Tonight was finally the night. I pulled out the pork tenderloin to cut it up for breading. (yes, I realize this defeats the whole purpose...cheap meat made to taste good, but my mom said she uses tenderloin now) That was when Jeff walked into the kitchen and asked what was for dinner. When I explained to him what was for dinner he had a sad disappointed "what is she doing to my pork tenderloin" face, even when I quickly added that it was a childhood favorite of mine. He was definitely skeptical.
It was at this point that I realized that it would have been helpful if I would have listened to what my grandmother and mother said. Was it milk and then breadcrumbs? eggs and breadcrumbs? milk and eggs? flour first? no flour? all I could remember was that my mother would put them on the skewer first and then egg/milk them and then throw them into a bag with bread crumbs and let them sit, while my grandmother would put them on the skewer after breading and not let them sit. I guess that makes this a tale of three city chickens since I proceeded to do it my own way.
Not having a clue of how to actually make it, I decided to use one egg, a very hefty spash of milk and soak the pieces individually in a bowl (simply because that was easier than pulling out a large pan big enough to soak all of them already skewered) and then skewer them and then into a baggie with breadcrumbs. I didn't have time to let them sit post-breading, so I skipped that step.
I heated up a pan with olive oil and then realized this is probably a recipe that would be better with butter so I threw some of that in the pan too. I knew that my mom always sauteed them in a pan and then put them in the oven, so I cooked them a few minutes on each side and threw them into the oven in the pan. I checked them after a couple of minutes, they felt about medium so I took them out.
We dug hungrily into our dinner (city chicken + roasted sweet potatoes + salad) and I was afraid to try the city chicken (I think Jeff was still pretty skeptical himself) so I ate everything else off my plate. I was sure that it wouldn't be nearly as good as I remembered it. But I took my first bite and it was amazingly just as good as I remembered it. Jeff gave me his "this is good" look as he took a bite of the meat right off the stick. I reiterated "a childhood favorite" as he went for the third and final skewer from the kitchen. He was relieved to hear that this would become a more regular dinner meal for us.
Who would have thought that I could pull it off? So rarely do these kinds of meals taste just like I remember it as a kid, mostly because I think those types of favorite childhood recipes are primarily nostalgic. I'm also guessing that it doesn't actually matter how you make it, as long as there is breading and there is pork (at least if you want it to taste like the way my mom made it)...so mom and grammy: unfortunately, I think your argument was all for naught.
So it's not much of a recipe (clearly, you can do whatever you want to it and it'll taste good), but here's what I've got:
1/2 pound pork tenderloin, cut into ~1 inch cubes
1 egg
somewhere between 2-4 tablespoons of milk
~1/2 cup breadcrumbs
1 T olive oil
1 T butter (or 2 T butter, no oil)
Sprinkle the pork with salt and pepper. Somehow get the pork into the egg and then into the breadcrumbs (put it on a skewer first, then egg, or not, whatever, it doesn't matter). Heat oil and butter in pan and pre-heat oven to about 350 deg. Add the skewers to the pan and brown the pork on all sides (maybe 1-2 min per side) and then put the pan in the oven (make sure it's an oven safe pan) for about 5 - 10 minutes, until the pork gives just a touch for medium or is very firm for well done. I actually prefer it at room temperature (which may have actually been why it tasted so good, because it was the last thing I ate for dinner so it cooled significantly), so you can serve right away or wait until cooled a bit.
...and enjoy the chickenless city chicken!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Can I have a bite?
NO!
For those who know me and my eating habits well, know that I do NOT share my food. ESPECIALLY if it's a dessert. Good luck getting a fork in there. Not going to happen. Actually, that's not true, the ritual goes something like this:
1. Everyone's food arrives
2. I survey everyone's food and see what I'm missing and then dig in to my own, sometimes asking for a bite of others
3. Someone will ask to have some of my food (before I'm done)
4. I respond in the negative, and indicate that I'm perfectly willing to share when I've eaten as much as I want and if there is still some leftover (if it's a dessert, there won't be any leftover).
5. The questioner doesn't believe me and tries to eat some of my food. It never ends well when this happens.
I have begun to tell others this fact when I'm eating with them. Often to the point that they think I'm moderately crazy. Someone will say "wow, that looks good" and I'll respond "I'm sorry, I don't share." Or, someone will offer me their food and I'll say, "I'd love to try some, but I won't share mine"
There are certain circumstances in which I am perfectly willing to share, as long as I know ahead of time when I'm getting into. Fondue, for instance, definitely a share food. Ethiopian, Thai, Indian, pizza (obviously)...all foods that I actually like to share. But I must know before I begin eating my meal that there will be sharing involved.
So I have speculated this crazy behavior stems from my childhood (what doesn't, really?) when my sister would take usurp my food from under my fork. AAAAAHHH! it was SO annoying. And my parents wouldn't do anything about it (the issue was that everyone knew I wouldn't finish my food, but still..) We finally worked out a ritual in which she was allowed to partake in my meal only after I had finished (which, I admit is kind of annoying, because if you just want a french fry, you do not want to wait until I'm done and then they're cold and gross). This is the ritual that I continue to this day. Jeff knows the deal, and has lovingly accepted my non-food sharing idiosyncrasy. And he will even share his food with me knowing that I won't share until the bitter end. That is, until this weekend.
We went out to brunch Sunday morning and agonized over our decisions on what to eat. We finally decided and I went for an Eggs Benedict of sorts: the base was a popover, (we were eating at a restaurant called "Popover Cafe"), with smoked salmon, eggs and a lemon hollandaise. It was everything I love in a breakfast, runny eggs, smoked salmon and saucy goodness...and, as it turns out, everything Jeff dislikes. He ordered a "flopover" (I told you the name of this place was Popover Cafe), a pancake like thing with some sweet yummy fruit filling.
So our food arrived and mine looked and tasted DELICIOUS. The lemon in the hollandaise was a perfect match for the smoked salmon. But Jeff's too, looked very very yummy. Recently, I have fallen into a weekend breakfast routine in which I crave both sweet and savory things. So, I clearly had the savory covered, but I really felt like I needed some sweet to round out my brunch. I obviously turned to Jeff's breakfast and very politely and sweetly asked for a bite of his breakfast. He looked up at me with my outstretched fork with a pained look on his face. And then, all of a sudden the pain in his face melted away to a smile and he responded "No."
What?!
And he then said "See? it comes back to bite you in the [expletive]"
What?!
My friend that we were eating with got a good chuckle while Jeff continued to clean his plate. I quickly offered some of my food, which he took a look at and nearly threw up all over. He then started a discussion of how runny eggs are the most disgusting thing ever.
Needless to say, I was shocked. I began to understand how it feels to be rejected at the food request. However, it was definitely not enough for me to change my ways. I definitely will never ever learn to share desserts. I tell myself that no one could possibly enjoy the dessert as much as I, so I would really be doing a dis-service to the dessert if I shared.
I am hopeful that this wasn't a sign that Jeff is going to share his food less, that would just simply, not be fair!
For those who know me and my eating habits well, know that I do NOT share my food. ESPECIALLY if it's a dessert. Good luck getting a fork in there. Not going to happen. Actually, that's not true, the ritual goes something like this:
1. Everyone's food arrives
2. I survey everyone's food and see what I'm missing and then dig in to my own, sometimes asking for a bite of others
3. Someone will ask to have some of my food (before I'm done)
4. I respond in the negative, and indicate that I'm perfectly willing to share when I've eaten as much as I want and if there is still some leftover (if it's a dessert, there won't be any leftover).
5. The questioner doesn't believe me and tries to eat some of my food. It never ends well when this happens.
I have begun to tell others this fact when I'm eating with them. Often to the point that they think I'm moderately crazy. Someone will say "wow, that looks good" and I'll respond "I'm sorry, I don't share." Or, someone will offer me their food and I'll say, "I'd love to try some, but I won't share mine"
There are certain circumstances in which I am perfectly willing to share, as long as I know ahead of time when I'm getting into. Fondue, for instance, definitely a share food. Ethiopian, Thai, Indian, pizza (obviously)...all foods that I actually like to share. But I must know before I begin eating my meal that there will be sharing involved.
So I have speculated this crazy behavior stems from my childhood (what doesn't, really?) when my sister would take usurp my food from under my fork. AAAAAHHH! it was SO annoying. And my parents wouldn't do anything about it (the issue was that everyone knew I wouldn't finish my food, but still..) We finally worked out a ritual in which she was allowed to partake in my meal only after I had finished (which, I admit is kind of annoying, because if you just want a french fry, you do not want to wait until I'm done and then they're cold and gross). This is the ritual that I continue to this day. Jeff knows the deal, and has lovingly accepted my non-food sharing idiosyncrasy. And he will even share his food with me knowing that I won't share until the bitter end. That is, until this weekend.
We went out to brunch Sunday morning and agonized over our decisions on what to eat. We finally decided and I went for an Eggs Benedict of sorts: the base was a popover, (we were eating at a restaurant called "Popover Cafe"), with smoked salmon, eggs and a lemon hollandaise. It was everything I love in a breakfast, runny eggs, smoked salmon and saucy goodness...and, as it turns out, everything Jeff dislikes. He ordered a "flopover" (I told you the name of this place was Popover Cafe), a pancake like thing with some sweet yummy fruit filling.
So our food arrived and mine looked and tasted DELICIOUS. The lemon in the hollandaise was a perfect match for the smoked salmon. But Jeff's too, looked very very yummy. Recently, I have fallen into a weekend breakfast routine in which I crave both sweet and savory things. So, I clearly had the savory covered, but I really felt like I needed some sweet to round out my brunch. I obviously turned to Jeff's breakfast and very politely and sweetly asked for a bite of his breakfast. He looked up at me with my outstretched fork with a pained look on his face. And then, all of a sudden the pain in his face melted away to a smile and he responded "No."
What?!
And he then said "See? it comes back to bite you in the [expletive]"
What?!
My friend that we were eating with got a good chuckle while Jeff continued to clean his plate. I quickly offered some of my food, which he took a look at and nearly threw up all over. He then started a discussion of how runny eggs are the most disgusting thing ever.
Needless to say, I was shocked. I began to understand how it feels to be rejected at the food request. However, it was definitely not enough for me to change my ways. I definitely will never ever learn to share desserts. I tell myself that no one could possibly enjoy the dessert as much as I, so I would really be doing a dis-service to the dessert if I shared.
I am hopeful that this wasn't a sign that Jeff is going to share his food less, that would just simply, not be fair!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
pre-party cinco de mayo style
I'm not exactly sure what Cinco de Mayo is all about (last year it was about me drinking WAY too many apple-tinis and "soiling" my sister and brother-in-law's neighbor's lawn on Seis de Mayo), but it's certainly a superb excuse to overdose on Mexican food. Plus, it happens to fall about 4 months after I get back from Mexico (where I eat Mexican food morning, noon, and night), which is right about the time when I'm craving it again.
Regarding the history of May 5th, Wikipedia says: It commemorates the victory of Mexican forces led by General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin over the French occupational forces in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. It also says that it is NOT Mexico's independence day. It also sounded like it is celebrated more in the US than Mexico (not sure about that one)...clearly everyone else wants an excuse to eat Mexican food too.
Miraculously, this year I forgot that this Saturday was Cinco de Mayo, and planned for tacos one night this week (actually, I mostly just felt like tacos tonight so I made them). Somewhere between deciding to make tacos tonight and actually making them, I remembered that Saturday was the national celebration of Mexican food and drink, and thought for a brief moment that I might not want to have tacos three nights before I most definitely will be eating Mexican food again. I re-assured myself that I love Mexican food enough to have it twice in one week, after all, I eat it every day for 10 straight days every year (although that's real Mexican food, not the fake stuff I make).
So I got home late (went to the gym first) and went straight to the kitchen for taco night preparations. I chopped tomatoes, onions, garlic (for beans) and lettuce; I got out beans, tortillas and the meat. All of which took about 10-15 minutes. Jeff got home and I threw the meat in one pan and onion, garlic and beans in another pan. In about 5 minutes the meat was done, I mashed the beans and dinner was ready! I definitely surprised myself on this one, we don't have taco night very often, but we definitely should. Dinner is ready in 20 minutes! That's crazy! Why isn't every night taco night? It's SO good, and SO fast! I know that my "tacos" are not even close to those tacos we get at the taco party every year in Mexico, wow, those are great, but still it's a delicious meal that is super quick and super easy. Plus, we have no good real Mexican places around us, so we can't even get delivery that easily.
Tonight's taco "pre-party" merely wet my appetite for Saturday's feast. I'm not sure what I'm going to make yet, but there will definitely be margaritas (NO apple-tinis). I think every year I should do a pre-party for Cinco de Mayo, just to get excited for the food I'm going to eat. Or, maybe I should just eat Mexican food more often and I won't have these silly epiphanies anymore.
I'd put a recipe in here, but really, who needs a recipe? Tacos are as easy as pie (actually much easier than pie, infinitely easier than pie). hmmm...what about a taco pie?! That would be great! But for the regular (non-pie) tacos, all you have to do is throw some meat in a pan, add some seasonings (I used cumin, chili powder, oregano and salt and pepper or you can just use those silly packets, if you must) and it's ready. Although, you really don't need me to tell you that...you just need me to remind you to make tacos often (actually, you probably don't even need me to tell you that, you just need me to entertain you for a few minutes while you're bored at work).
For the beans, I added garlic and onion and red pepper flakes and sauteed those together for a few minutes before adding black beans, about 1/4 cup of broth (depends on how dry you like them) and salt and pepper. After a few minutes I used my potato masher and mashed it all together. Delicioso.
Regarding the history of May 5th, Wikipedia says: It commemorates the victory of Mexican forces led by General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin over the French occupational forces in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. It also says that it is NOT Mexico's independence day. It also sounded like it is celebrated more in the US than Mexico (not sure about that one)...clearly everyone else wants an excuse to eat Mexican food too.
Miraculously, this year I forgot that this Saturday was Cinco de Mayo, and planned for tacos one night this week (actually, I mostly just felt like tacos tonight so I made them). Somewhere between deciding to make tacos tonight and actually making them, I remembered that Saturday was the national celebration of Mexican food and drink, and thought for a brief moment that I might not want to have tacos three nights before I most definitely will be eating Mexican food again. I re-assured myself that I love Mexican food enough to have it twice in one week, after all, I eat it every day for 10 straight days every year (although that's real Mexican food, not the fake stuff I make).
So I got home late (went to the gym first) and went straight to the kitchen for taco night preparations. I chopped tomatoes, onions, garlic (for beans) and lettuce; I got out beans, tortillas and the meat. All of which took about 10-15 minutes. Jeff got home and I threw the meat in one pan and onion, garlic and beans in another pan. In about 5 minutes the meat was done, I mashed the beans and dinner was ready! I definitely surprised myself on this one, we don't have taco night very often, but we definitely should. Dinner is ready in 20 minutes! That's crazy! Why isn't every night taco night? It's SO good, and SO fast! I know that my "tacos" are not even close to those tacos we get at the taco party every year in Mexico, wow, those are great, but still it's a delicious meal that is super quick and super easy. Plus, we have no good real Mexican places around us, so we can't even get delivery that easily.
Tonight's taco "pre-party" merely wet my appetite for Saturday's feast. I'm not sure what I'm going to make yet, but there will definitely be margaritas (NO apple-tinis). I think every year I should do a pre-party for Cinco de Mayo, just to get excited for the food I'm going to eat. Or, maybe I should just eat Mexican food more often and I won't have these silly epiphanies anymore.
I'd put a recipe in here, but really, who needs a recipe? Tacos are as easy as pie (actually much easier than pie, infinitely easier than pie). hmmm...what about a taco pie?! That would be great! But for the regular (non-pie) tacos, all you have to do is throw some meat in a pan, add some seasonings (I used cumin, chili powder, oregano and salt and pepper or you can just use those silly packets, if you must) and it's ready. Although, you really don't need me to tell you that...you just need me to remind you to make tacos often (actually, you probably don't even need me to tell you that, you just need me to entertain you for a few minutes while you're bored at work).
For the beans, I added garlic and onion and red pepper flakes and sauteed those together for a few minutes before adding black beans, about 1/4 cup of broth (depends on how dry you like them) and salt and pepper. After a few minutes I used my potato masher and mashed it all together. Delicioso.
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