The following post has nothing to do with barbecue other than the brief mention of Sweet Baby Rays Barbecue sauce. If you can live with that, then please, do enjoy.
Today I’m jacking another blog post.
For no other reason than the concoction of this aberration is enough to make the biggest balled, reddest blooded male crumble to his knees like a little bitch.
Apparently, in Venezuela, the ideal hamburger is comprised of ketchup, mayo, mustard, onions, cabbage, shoestring potatoes, more ketchup, mayo and mustard, avocado, tomato, burger patty, chorizo, chicken, eggs and bacon, and a mountain of shredded Roquefort cheese.
Aptly named La Diabla, you can read more here.
I made the buns.
Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures. I was way too sick and tired to bother flicking them. That said, for a first time try, they turned out pretty damn good.
Hardest part was getting the buns down right. Mine weren’t nearly as fluffy as the ones you get at Momos but that probably had a lot to do with the fact that I didn’t have the right environment to proof the dough.
Pork was sooooo suculent. The recipe calls for a bit too much salt, but other than that, it was bang on.
I’m hoping to do this again. Next project: Bo Ssam.
Ya goddam right I’m obsessed.
It’s been a hot minute since a TV show hit the airwaves and impacted me the way The Wire does. Before watching season one, I pre-determined that the ghetto aura (set in Bodymore, Murdaland) of the show would be its coup-de-grace. My initial thoughts were that the slang, the hip-hop references and a handful of rapper cameo’s was enough to keep me interested. Well it didn’t. It was good for an initial attraction and the odd moment of me muttering to myself “shit, that’s Fredro Starr“. The selling point however – the element that got me hooked – was the show’s insane repository of developed characters and a plot line so webbed you’d almost need Coles notes to follow. In other words, the ghetto setting was seeing titties through a shear blouse. The characters, the story line and plot – the meat and potatoes – was actually getting to know the girl. Ya feel me?
To follow The Wire, you gotta be a bit more than hooked. To quote excerpts – mildly obsessed. Taking innocuous points of reference and dialogue that at best, has maybe 30 seconds of play and turning it into a blog-post means you are gleefully gay for the show. And not in an Omar Little type way.
Which is why I thought it would be neat to highlight some of my favorite food points in said show. Aside from icing niggas, holding down corners and running re-ups, there are a couple of food gems and moments of food brilliancy throughout the five seasons. Given that the show is hyper-realistic, this can mean two things: either David Simon and Ed Burns have boners for food or niggas really do like to eat.
Eat and slang packages.
Now you could wax poetic about the underlying message, theme and meaning behind why food is such a focal point in the show. But we’ll leave that for The Wire 101. I on the other hand, would just like to believe that after a long day of pushing weight and being the black Martha Stewart, a nigga just wanna eat some good shit.
Our introduction to the soldiers of the Barksdale Crew. D’angelo, Wallace and Poot talk about the wonders and politics of the Chicken McNugget. Niggas got a point.
Here we see what happens when you creep out on the job to grab a mid-shift snack.
Lunch meetings in West B-More.
I’ve been Chinese for 30 years. In all that time I’ve never ever heard of Yakami in turkey grease. Can someone please let me know what the fuck that is?
Sometimes you have to make do with something else when the city health inspectors shut down your favorite lunch spot.
Avon drops the biggest truth-bomb of the entire show.
I’m going to attempt it this weekend. Any takers?
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….