Ha Soooooooo!

Olivia hit me up the other day, and dropped a gem on me.  She found the recipe for this made by this guy.

I’m going to attempt it this weekend.  Any takers?

PWN3D

Never, ever, ever enter a pissing match if you piss sitting down.

Long story short, this guy thought he would man up, and bet a buddy who could eat the hottest chili.  He put his bravado to the test and ended up merked.

Thanks Jacob for todays post and as my favorite jew would say:  Don’t talk the talk if you can’t walk the walk. Or: if you can’t stand the heat stay out the kitchen. Or: don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house.  Or….

Omnomnom

Chances are if you like eating, you live in Toronto and you’ve got half an ear to the ground, you’ve heard of Caplansky’s.  If not…well then really I can’t blame ya.  Caplansky’s isn’t exactly easy to find.  It’s nestled away inside a pub that no-one really gives a fuck about and there’s no real signage or indicator that you are close, or right outside said haunt.  Its pretty much harder to find than Anne Frank.

That being said, if you do find Anne…err Caplansky’s, you’ve definitely stumbled on a Jewish gem.

One thing I really missed from my time living in Montreal aside from the poutine, bagels and depaneurs, was smoked-meat sandwiches.  The Jewish settlement in Montreal really did wonders to the city’s food department (unlike Toronto, where all our Jews are down on Bay street swindling the stock markets) allowing arguably the best deli’s and bagel bakeries to pop-up this side of Israel.  Schwartz’s, Lester’s, you name it.  There’s no shortage of smoked meat sammies in Montreal.  Toronto on the other hand, has a chain that sells pre-fab sandwiches, and delis that don’t measure anywhere close to what MTL has (one deli I went to, gave me cold-cut roast beef on rye and told me that was their “authentic MTL smoked meat sandwich).

Then came Caplansky’s.  Toronto’s answer to the Franco-Jewish void.  And it does a great job of filling said void (and your stomach I might add).  First things first.  Caplansky’s shouldn’t be compared to Schwartz’s or Lester’s because it’s not trying to be that.  It’s not striving to make the perfect Montreal smoked meat sandwich.  Caplansky’s, is trying to be well…Caplansky’s.

And it does so with fervor.  The sandwich (which comes in regular or 10 oz) is pretty damn good.  It’s got all the sensibilities of a MTL SMS with a little hint of smokiness for more of a Texan flavor.  The meat is well marbled and the “fatty cut” is a good fatty cut, with the renderings dripping like a leaky faucet (fatty brisket can go either way: it can be deliciously succulent or it can be stringy and sinuous from un-rendered fat strands) Long story short, It’s a great new take on something rather traditional. Whether you are a barbecue fanatic or a Jew lover (sorry my Hebrew friends, I just had to take one last racist pot-shot) Caplansky’s won’t disappoint.

Chowhound Licks Balls

My friend Olivia brought up a sore point the other day.  Actually, it was more of repressed feelings locked away in my R Kelly closet with no key in sight.  Nothing beats good ol’ fashioned denial.  You’re able to delude yourself from any truths, placating your own set of values and allowing you to weefully trudge along in life.  Ignorance is fucking bliss.

What exactly am I talking about?  I’m talking about the bullshit that is Chowhound.

For the longest time, I’ve considered Chowhound the most comprehensive, un-adultarated source of all things food.  And it is, but I’ve always had a bone to pick with them about their censoring practices.  Censoring in the first place, is gay.  Censoring message boards, is Clay Aiken gay.  Censoring a food message board is Lance Bass taking a dildo up the bung-hole gay.

But I continued to use CH, rationalizing to myself that it really never affected me, and I could always word shit to get around it.  Coincidentally, Olivia brought up this issue with me right around the time that I got a message from the CH moderators.

I had posted a response to a thread about New Yorkers visiting Toronto for food.  I had suggested, that the said guests check out a pal’s newly opened restaurant:

“…And also check out (shameless plug) a pal’s new resto Odd Fellow on Queen and Shaw. Its concept is very New York. Would be great if they could weigh in their two cents.“

Apparently, that went against Chowhound rules, because I was promptly sent this emai:

“Hi goodcookiedrift, you’ve been sent the following by a Chowhound moderator:

We appreciated your disclosing your connection to your friend’s restaurant. And the moderators and I believe you are sincere in your praise for his place. But consider that if we let people post rave reviews for places run by friends and family, we’d be dead in the water. Imagine what would happen if mothers, wives, brothers, and fishing buddies were to come onto the site and post great big raving kisses for their friends’ operations.

There are plenty who do this and DON’T disclose their insider connections. We call them “shills”, and we bar the restaurant from further discussion on Chowhound (we’re pretty good at detecting them). This is very serious, and you certainly haven’t done anything remotely like that (thanks!).

But even disclosing your relationship, you aren’t an unbiased party and therefore we can’t trust your rave. And though we gauge you as sincere, our gauge is imperfect. Plus, we don’t have time or energy to separate the grandmas who truly think their little grandson’s new place is just peachy from the aunts who’ve invested 50K in their nephew’s steakhouse and post sterling testimonials because that frigging no-good bum better make a success this time. Or anything in between.

Really, it’s best if the opinions on Chowhound come from unbiased parties. That way our info’s better for all who make use of us in making dining decisions.

If you want to repost your great message without the reference to Odd Fellow, you’re more than welcome to.  A copy is below.”

Immediately I was WTF?  I did nothing to praise or slag the establishment, nor was I at all offering false pretense.  And the part about the aunt and grandmother made no fucking sense.  I didn’t rave about the restaurant, I simply said it was worth noting and opinions from native New Yorkers would be great.  Fired up, I responded with:

Just to clarify though, i didn’t rave about my friend’s restaurant.  I simply was suggesting in a very light tone, that it be checked out.  In fact, i did even preface it by stating that it was a shameless plug and I’d love to get a New Yorker’s POV on a restaurant that’s concept is based on very New York idea.Perhaps the wording was a bit unclear?

I’m hoping that open invitations to try new establishments aren’t being discouraged by Chowhound now?  As I do disagree with shilling, i think there is great value in simply letting the CH public know of new restaurants, in an unbiased manner – be it friend, family or even foe – and welcoming rants or raves.  It speaks to the very core of chowhound and why I (like many) frequent it.

To my disappointment CH never wrote me back (I love arguments).  Their gastro-pompous, cowardly asses took it on the chin (I suspect) and passively just sat behind their computer deleting any of my posts that even contained  the words “Odd” and “Fellow”.  Well listen up you dimwitted, coward of a fuck.  Thanks for not having the balls to defend your point but having enough gall to follow my posts and systematically delete them.  That’s a total bitch move – something a fat, sweaty, terrine smelling, biscotti finger cock-sucker who JO’s on stray cats does.

Fuck you Chowhound.

The Magnum Opus

Over the weekend, a friend and I decided to let our worlds collide and Frankenstien up a gastro-concoction fitting of jaw-dropping praise.  The idea was simple:  to fuse his passion for friescurdsgravy and my passion for barbecue and birth a pulled-pork poutine of epic proportions.  We were fully aware that JKWB serves said dish, but that did not deter.  Rather, it acted as a benchmark by which we were out to not only succeed, but obliterate in the process.

The Cue Part

As with any cue dish, the primary concern is time.  Barbecuing any meat requires both a lot of prep and cook time so it was key to manage this and get started early.

Saturday morning I set out on my bike to European Deli to get myself a pork shoulder.  I’ll usually get my hogs over at my butcher in St. Lawrence Market (north market) as his cuts and service is grade A.  But with time being my major obstacle, I had to compromise and hit up ED.

What a bad move.

Picking meat for any preparation requires a good eyeball and some rigorous scrutiny.  For pulled pork, this means finding the ideal cut that’s nicely marbled with fat.  Fat marbling is absolutely imperative for good cue.  And when I requested shuffling through the selection, I was greeted with exasperation and impatience from the lady helping me out.  It also doesn’t help that she didn’t know what a “picnic shoulder” was.  Christ.  Imagine going to the dentist and him not knowing what fluoride is.

Needless to say, I don’t think I’ll be returning to European Deli.  In my haste and shortness, I grabbed a less than desirable shoulder for cuing but with time being of the essence, I had to make do.

The Prep

Prepping the shoulder, you’ll want to rid that fucker of its skin.  Some people like to keep it on.  I prefer to hack it off as you won’t be incorporating it into the dish later.  Additionally, you can prep it separately and have yourself some good ol cracklin’.

When peeling the skin back, be sure to leave about 1/8th of an inch of fat on the meat.  FAT IS ESSENTIAL!  This is what will render down during the smoking process and tenderize the meat by keeping it moist.

After the skin and fat has been trimmed, a rub will go on.  Rub’s are the cherry on top – its the difference between having a good pulled pork and an excellent pulled pork.  A heavy rub will also make a good bark (thats the dark shit or the outer layer that turns dark). In this case, the rub consisted of chili powder, paprika, garlic powder, brown sugar, kosher salt, and a medley of other spices.  At this stage you want to ensure that all of the meat’s crevasses are crammed with rub.  You’re basically finger banging your pork.

Once generously covered, wrap it in saran and stick it in the fridge to ‘marinate’.  This should at the very least take 4 hrs and for best results, leave over night.

The Smoke

Smoking your cue is do or die time.  It’s soldiers leaping out of the trenches and crossing the line;  it’s the dying seconds of the game with less than 24 on the clock and the ball in your hand.  This is the stage where all the magic comes to life.  Or conversely, where you can fuck everything up and make your cue taste like camp-fired dog shit.

Three key things at this point: 1) pre-heat your cue and get it up to temp (200 – 225 degrees) 2) place that slab in there via indirect method 3) let it sit there and don’t open the lid.  The basic principle is to keep a consistent level of heat going and an even flow of smoke.  Too much smoke and your pork will taste bitter.  Too little, and it won’t have that rich smokey flavor. Maintaining such consistency is quite the craft and is the playing field that characterizes each cue’r and their end result.

Wood is also an integral ingredient.  They will all emit different aromas and tastes and all react differently depending on your game.  This time around, I used a mixture of cherry and chestnut wood as fuel.

Average about 1 – 1.5 hrs per pound and baste it every hour.

This was a 4.5 pound slab, so it sat on there for roughly 5hrs.  Small time in relation to the other shit I’ve smoked.

The Taters

We chose Yukon Golds for this dish.  I would have probably opted for Russets if they were available but, I’ve had Yukon Gold fries before and I like em.  Cut into 1/4 inch frites, they were then twice fried in a healthy vat of hot oil consisting of 1 part peanut oil and 3 parts lard. After bathing in our vat, they were dried then salted for added flavor.  Note: unless you want your house to smell like perma-McDonalds, its best to do any frying outside.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have access to a propane deep fryer so we kind of got all Food-Jammers at this point.

The Curds

St. Alberts curds brought in from the Ottawa/Gatineau region then frozen.  I never knew this, but this keeps them fresh and squeaky.

The Gravy

Ben whipped up some gravy that consisted of mushroom gravy out the can, fresh black pepper and pork juice trimmings (from the pulled pork).  Even though we used pre-made gravy, the added ingredients were a nice touch.

The End Result

Definitely ranked up there as one of the best poutines I’ve had. Not a traditional french poutine, but in all honesty, the shit was euphoric. The three of us pretty much inhaled all 5 pounds of poutine and within a matter of minutes, were consumed with glazed eyes, slurred speech and pork burps.  I’ll let the pics and Curdsade do the talking.

Slabs and Slabs

I just finished watching E2, S4 of The Wire.  I’m a little bummed that McNullty is a beat cop but I’m pretty stoked on Marlow’s crew especially Snoop.  Well I take that back.  Fruit was kind of annoying and Marlow looks like a vindictive, black alien.  Snoop on the other hand, floored me upon purchasing a Hilti nail-gun from a hardware store.  To the befuddled sales rep, she so eloquently compares said nail gun to a .22 cal., hands him $800, picks up her “Cadillac of nail-guns” and calls it a day.  You’d have to posses an erie and imbalanced set of aesthetic values to consider Snoop hot, but god damn!

But this post isn’t about that.  Actually I had no idea where that Wire anecdote came from.  Call it obsessive.

Anyhow, after finishing episode 2, I turned to the television where Michelle was watch Diners, Drive-ins and Dives on the Food Network.  Notwithstanding the blonde locked, douchebag, psychobilly host, the show is kind of impressive.  In this episode, embarrassing goldie-locked host fleshed out a unique barbecue joint in the Bronx.  The neat thing about this spot, is that they do automotive repairs while smoking your cue favorites such as brisket, pulled pork and ribs. And just when I thought New Yorkers could only smoke Newports, weed and crack.  As our favorite Senator Davis would say “Shiiiiieeeeeeeeettttt.”

For more, go here.

Computer Whiz I am Not

I fixed the RSS feed now.

So you can click on that little red icon and alls well.

This Is What’s Wrong With The World

Steve Ricci, you fat fuck, get it right.

You broke almost every fucking rule in the barbecue book.  All the while, standing on your gastro-pedestal preaching your fucky ways like it was gospel.  Now we’ll have hoards of Woodbridge gino’s and downtown condo-dwelling douches who jerk off to Ikea catalogues thinking that this is THE way to barbecue ribs.

Sleep well at night you repulsive ingrate.

BTW, I hope your swine-bucket of a restaurant burns down.

Rotten Apples are Terrible for Smoking

There’s one thing that’s sure as the sky is blue: New Yorkers don’t know how to barbecue worth shit. Brooklyn hipsters consider Nathan’s hotdogs and Meat-O-Mat burgers to be a good ‘cue’. On top of that, they don’t even know how to cook the tubes and slabs of processed meat. To be completely honest Its quite the pathetic sight to be seen.

Guest Who?

I got a review on Hamblogger. Awesome. I’m really stoked. Like really.

Burgs are good.