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Category Archives: Food-Cooking-and Eating

First Ninja Foodi Chicken

Resting Chick Face

Purchased a Ninja Foodi about three weeks ago and, so far, I’ve cooked bacon and a pork chop, rice, and broccoli dinner with it, though the latter did not come out as expected. Probably because I used the timing for steak, which I’m pretty sure is a bit less dense than pork. The recipe called for the meat to start out as frozen and, when it was done, it wasn’t actually done. Also, it called for a cup of rice and a cup of water to be placed in the bottom, which I did, but the rice came out dried and stuck together (big time), which tells me I needed more water. Actually, the recipe called for chicken stock, but I didn’t have any, so there’s that. I can’t remember what else I cooked.

This recipe called for a mixture of equal parts honey, lemon juice, and hot water, along with two Tbsp of salt to be put in the bottom of the pot. I then added a half dozen sprigs of thyme, six crushed garlic cloves, and a Tbsp of Sichuan peppercorns. Pressure cooked it for 25 minutes (a few more than called for, to ensure doneness), then brushed it with oil and seasoned with salt and pepper, after which I air fried it for 10 minutes.

The girls loved it. It was tasty, moist, and tender. Will definitely do this again. I still want to figure out how to cook a three course meal in it at once, or almost at once. Think I’ll try it again soon.

PS – This was an organic, free-range chicken from Trader Joe’s. They swear it was raised without the use of hormones or antibiotics. I hope that’s true, cause it was expensive, and I’d hate to think I spent that money for nothing.

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Really?

This is a real thing. This is like the American version of Japanese ingenuity.

Sadly . . . I’m intrigued.


A Little Geometry

A photo I shared on Instagram five years ago, with the following joke:

Q: What geometric shape is depicted here?

A: A meatsallgone.

I have no recollection of this post. I must have been pretty high at the time.


Doggone It!

I was a Wiener Clerk at the Wiener Factory back in the early 70s. “We may be contumacious, but we’re never revocatory.” “Tell us how long you want us to hold the onions.” The owner wrote every bit of graffiti in there . . . and the moderately risque stuff in the toilets out back. I think my favorite dog was the coleslaw and cheese, though a good old fashioned kraut dog still hits the spot when I’ma cravin’.

I worked there throughout my first year of law school, 1973 to 1974. It was a decent job at the time. The owner, whose first name—Gene—is all I remember, was a former English teacher and stockbroker. He was a bright, somewhat tortured guy, but he treated his employees with respect, which is frequently not the case.

We used Gulden’s mustard, which we thinned just a bit with pickle juice, adding a significant bit of extra flavor. I often wonder if anyone actually noticed. I think the hot dogs were Vienna’s natural casing wieners, and we got the knackwurst and one other type of sausage from a small sausage maker in Burbank. Alpine sounds about right. We used fresh egg buns, which we steamed before serving so they were nice and soft. We also sold a shitload of German potato salad. I don’t think we had fries, but I just don’t remember.

Flooky’s made a damned good hot dog as well, and I was sorely disappointed a couple of months ago when I was returning to Simi after an appointment at the W.H. Kaiser Med Center. I was planning on having a Flooky’s hot dog (or two) only to find out they had gutted the place. I don’t know if there’s a Flooky’s left in the SFV.

I still crave a good hot dog probably a lot more frequently than is healthy for me, but I was raised on the damn things. I love a good, kosher, natural casing wiener with gulden’s mustard and a hearty sauerkraut on top of that. I also love mustard, relish, and onions, as well as mustard, chili, cheese, and onions. Hell! I’ve been known to slice one lengthwise and eat it between two pieces of rye bread with some mustard. It’s just a mini bologna, after all.


Frozen Chocolate-Dipped Peanut Butter Banana Bites

 

I think I was introduced to chocolate-covered, frozen bananas about sixty years ago, when we used to spend a few weeks each summer on the Balboa Peninsula of Newport Beach, CA. The Fun Zone is still there—at least it shows up on a map—though I haven’t been in that neck o’ the woods for several decades. This recipe looks faskinatin’.

PS – I tried it yesterday and I think I had the wrong kind of chocolate morsels, as they refused to melt properly. I’ll have to soldier on and figure out what happened. This may be the last you’ll ever hear of it.

Love bananas and chocolate? Try making these delicious Frozen Chocolate Dipped Peanut Butter Banana Bites! They are super easy to make and can be kept in the freezer until you get a craving for a bite of something sweet and chocolatey. Feel free to use any type of nut butter you’d like.

Source: Frozen Chocolate-Dipped Peanut Butter Banana Bites


I Forgot Shadows!

The Simi Valley Democratic Club—of which I am a member, as well as the duly elected Corresponding Secretary and Chair of the Social Media Committee—had its 3rd annual Independence Day picnic this past Saturday. It is held in conjunction with our brothers and sisters in the Moorpark Democratic Club and we alternate between their City’s locations and ours. We’re right next to each other IRL.

As Corresponding Secretary, my duties range from publishing (which means writing, editing, and finding—or creating—graphics for) the club’s monthly newsletter, posting to our Facebook page and group, conducting meetings of the Social Media Committee, and a few other ancillary activities.

One of those ancillary activities is taking pictures at events I attend and, in the case of this picnic, putting together one or more useful posts for our FB page/group. Since I had taken a picture of all the elected officials who had addressed us (save for State Senator Henry Stern, who showed up late enough that I had already taken my 15-year-old, very bored, daughter home and, therefore, couldn’t take a photo) I decided to work on my Photoshop selection and layering skills. This is the result, which I posted to our page/group.

With the exception of the aforementioned State Senator (who I ghosted into the shot), these are the officials who joined us for a meal of hot dogs, chips, macaroni salad, and soft drinks/lemonade/iced tea. From left to right, they are:

Nathan Sweet – Moorpark Unified School District
Brian Dennert – Rancho Simi Recreation & Parks District
Roseann Mikos – Moorpark City Council
David Pollock – Moorpark City Council
Christy Smith – State Assembly – D-38
Kevin de León – Former President Pro Tempore, CA State Senate
Julia Brownley – US Representative CA-26
Ruth Luevanos – Simi Valley City Council
Bernardo Perez – VCCC Trustee
Rob Collins – Ventura County Board of Education
Henry Stern – CA State Senator – 27th District


Ode(o) to Ben Carson

Not quite three weeks ago Ben Carson was being question by Katie Porter, a member of the House Financial Services Committee. For those who haven’t heard about it, or (assuming you’re reading this long after it happened) hadn’t heard about it, she asked him if he knew what REO stood for. It is a technical term that the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development should have known.

Instead, Secretary (or is it Buffoon?) Carson thought she was asking him about Oreo cookies. Hilarity ensued, especially on Twitter. My response was to take to Photoshop for a moment and whip together what went through my mind when I heard of this.


Can’t Fight This Feeling

PS – If you’re really interested, REO stands for “Real Estate Owned” and is used to designate properties that have gone into foreclosure. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Real_estate_owned


“Daddy, I See Fat People”

I wanted to check out the new Black Bear Diner here in Simi, so I took Alyssa there for lunch today. I had checked out their menu and was a bit blown away by how calorious most items were, but knowing they serve cinnamon roll French toast kinda tugs at my very raison d’etre.

Unfortunately, when we arrived, it appeared the parking lot was full and there were lots of people waiting outside. Alyssa, who isn’t exactly shy, noted that all the people waiting appeared to be considerably overweight. She did not want to eat there, as she’s long been concerned with eating healthy and wants to eat more of a plant-based diet.

We ended up eating Vietnamese food at the Bamboo Cafe. She had chicken with lemongrass over vermicelli. She struggled with the veggies, but I admire her doggedness. As for me, I’m definitely heading there for breakfast soon. I’ve got to try that cinnamon roll French toast, probably with a side of bacon . . . and coffee, of course.


Cinnamon and Coconut Glazed Donuts!

Sure look good, donut they?

Staying reasonably faithful to a diet that’s both fulfilling and healthful is made difficult here at work. Whenever there’s an event that involves food – and there are lots of them – it is set out on a group of lateral filing cabinets that are just a few feet from me. In fact, of the one hundred or so people on the floor, I’m the closest to the food.

Today, someone brought in at least five dozen donuts. I resisted successfully, but I would prefer avoiding the “near occasion of sin” where possible. Still, I cleared the hurdle, and I’m continuing my quest to drop down to 165 lbs. by my 69th birthday in early June.


OK – So I Gave Up On The Twist

This is the fourth post I’m bringing over from The Cranky Curmudgeon. When I’ve moved everything, I suppose I’ll shut that puppy down. No reason to have both my blogs up when I’m only updating this one. This post kind of proves even old farts can change. I’m not sure when it happened, but I finally just gave up on enjoying the little cocktail addition I’m lamenting about in this particular rant. I still, of course, enjoy Scotch, but I’ve taken to drinking it neat a lot more and when I do have it with water, I’m content to just have the two without the . . . see below.


Originally Posted 26 February 2006

TWIST AND SHOUT

“Hello! My name’s {enter favorite name here} and I’ll be your server tonight. May I get you something to drink?”

How many meals start off with these two innocuous lines? For me they are usually the prelude to the antithesis of what getting that drink is supposed to be, a short, appetite-stimulating moment of anticipatory relaxation prior to enjoying a calm, stress-free meal. I don’t know about you, but my week is normally far too hectic for most meals to be truly relaxing. I do the bulk of the cooking in our house, and I have no use (for the most part) for things like shake-and-bake. That means there’s prep work prior to, and cleaning during and after, the actual act of eating. Sometimes I eat half my meal while I’m cooking it.

Lemon Twist

Gone but not forgotten.

I am also a Scotch drinker; have been for a long time. Scotch is the only type of alcohol with which I can attain the proverbial “three sheets to the wind”, yet awaken the next day with no hangover. I have always attributed this to the fact that Scotch is usually (in my case always) imbibed either “neat” (all by its little lonesome) or with water in one form (on-the-rocks) or another (with, what else, water). There is nothing froo-froo about drinking Scotch. Nevertheless, while not necessary, adding a twist (for those of you who do not drink, a twist is a sliver of lemon peel, the twisting of which releases a spritz of essential oils; it is not a wedge of lemon or lime from which the juice gets squeezed into a drink) adds just the right amount of subtle citrus flavoring which, to my palate, goes well with the smoky earthiness of Scotch.

So, here’s the problem. Why is it April, or Jonathon, or Heather, or William can never, ever remember I asked for that little twist of lemon? Why am I always put in the position of accusing my server of not being able to do their job as well as I think I have the right to anticipate? Mind you, I’m a good tipper and I’m not really all that demanding. I grew up in and around the food business and have spent a fair amount of time putting up with demanding patrons at eating establishments. I know how difficult it can be and I appreciate someone who does it well. I frequently tip 20% of the total (including drinks and sales tax), even if they forget my twist.

But . . . why can’t servers remember this one simple, little thing? Why? Why must I frequently forego it just because it’s not really, really that important? Although I’m not usually at a loss for why I think things happen, I don’t have a good answer for this one. I’m stumped. I’m coming to accept it as a universal law, like – Hubble’s Constant. It’s a corollary to another law I’ve noticed in restaurants; servers will never notice, despite ample opportunity to do so, that I’m left-handed and will invariably place a new drink on my right side. But that’s another story.

P.S. – I realize this isn’t really that terrible a rant and probably not worthy of a true (and cranky) curmudgeon, but I have too much respect for working people, especially those at the bottom of the heap, to ever get too pissed at them. Call me a softie, but there’s plenty enough crap out there to get worked up about. This ain’t one of ’em.


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