Ms. Lauerstein, this one's for you.
As a hobbiest cook, one of my aspirations is to "someday" make a brisket. You know, really make a brisket. Get up at 6 am, open the fridge to find a 7 lb. brisket imbibing in a magical marinade tenderly poured upon it the night before, then coating said brisket with a signature rub that would make "The Colonel's Secret Blend" of herbs and spices seem as ordinary as oatmeal. Triumphantly, I'd place our bountiful beef slab onto a professional outdoor smoker where this marbled maven would bask in the sensuous, smoky song of finely cured hickory, mesquite or pecan. For 12 pain-staking hours the smoky goodness would orchestrate a symphony of smell and flavor, piquing with a siren's song of barbecue bliss.
But that ain't happenin' quite yet.
'Cause I don't have a smoker, I have a small oven.
And I don't have a wood pile, I have a gas line.
Heck, I don't even have a basting pan. I have a 14" Pyrex dish.
*Crap.*
About the only thing I have is the brisket. A marinade recipe. A barbecue rub. And the want to turn "someday" into "today". Well, hold on, maybe this can work after all. So lemme walk you through how I made an oven brisket in hopes it'll inspire you to try to make your own brisket as well – smoker or not. Ok, let's assume you've got a brisket. Hopefully, it's around 5-6 pounds and has some nice marbling action going on.
Oh, wait...historical side note...back in the day when photos where black and white and people used to say everything was "just swell", brisket was dirt cheap, sometimes even thrown away because it was considered inedible. That's why only poor people used it. And these paupers, being resourceful and hungry, learned what we all know now – cook it low and slow. They soaked it and smoked it until the tough yielded tender and the fat fostered flavor (they also barbecued raccoon and possum too, so let's not hand them a Nobel prize just yet.) So, critters aside, we're going to take their lead to make our own oven brisket.
Ok...back to present day...take your packaged brisket and open the package over your sink. Over your sink. Not on the cutting board. Over the sink. There will be some liquid left over (it'll be r-e-d liquid) and it's better to have the liquid go down the sink rather than down your prep surface. Or your floor. Or your pants. And wash out the bag before putting it in the trash too. Nothing says, "Come 'n get it!" to neighborhood strays like a meat bag with leftover liquid.
Ok, brisket out of bag. Check. Baking pan big enough to fit it in. Check. Ok, here comes the fun part, the marinade. You can use a pre-prepped marinade off the shelf or you can make your own. Here's the one I used and it worked really well. Feel free to add or subtract whatever you like:
• 1 cup barbecue sauce (your own or off-the shelf)
• 1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup liquid smoke (hickory, apple, natural...all great)
• 1 tablespoon garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons celery salt
• 2 teaspoons lemon pepper
• 1 teaspoon Southwestern salt (I use Pampered Chef)
• 1 cup rough chopped onion
• 1/2 cup cheap whiskey (cheap stuff goes on meat, good stuff goes in your glass)
Another side note – when you chop up an onion and don't want that onion smell to linger on your hands, try rubbing your hands on a chrome surface like your sink faucet. Not sure how or why, but it works.
Now, pour enough of the marinade to coat the bottom of the pan into, well, the pan. Then, with the fat side of the brisket up...fat side up...place the brisket gently into the pan. Jostle it in the pan a little to help it settle in. Then pour the rest of the marinade onto the brisket. Now, set the marinaded brisket inside your fridge for as few as two hours or as long as overnight. You may want to cover it to make sure it doesn't pick up any "fridge funk".
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. *Ding*. We're done marinading.
Ok, now for the rub. Again, off-the-shelf is fine. From-the-heart is better, but whatever rub you use pour it very liberally and coat the top of the brisket until you spy no signs of meat underneath. Just a dry, crusty shell...kind of like Larry King (sorry). Since every oven is different, plus with different climates and elevations, this is only a suggestion and not a hard and fast rule – per 1 pound of meat, it's 1 hour and 15 minutes at 250°. BE CAREFUL to make sure the finished internal temperature of the brisket is around 170°. A little more internal heat is extra insurance again food nasties, but it can also lead to more dry meat as well. We're after safe and succulent.
And now...sit and wait.
And wait. And wait. And, hey, isn't the kitchen starting to smell good? And wait. And wait. And *bing* it's 6 and a half hours (or so) later and you've got something that resembles a giant lump of coal bathing in an au jous sauce that's nothing short of divine. And after your long wait, you can't wait to get out your best Ginsu knife and cut off a slice.
But you can't.
No, not yet. 'Cause the brisket needs to rest. For half an hour. Besides, at an internal heat of 180° or so, you'll burn your mouth.
So settle down, play a speed round of Yatzee with your kids and let the brisket settle. Then, after a half hour or so, get all Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving feast with it and carve your culinary accomplishment to the gasp and awe of all who are near. And sure, feel free to take some over to your neighbor and show them how great it is living next to you. You may never have to shovel your driveway again.
Put along some sides of baked beans, cole slaw or sweet potato fries with the whole deal, sip some fresh iced tea and, well, that's some sweet, sweet lovin' right there, kids. Plus, we're one step closer to "someday".
Enjoy!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Beer (Bread) Me.
It's cold. It's rainy. It's time to make some beer bread, kids.
There are several recipes for beer bread, but here's one I really like. It's pretty simple, just remember, it's always easier to mix the dry ingredients to the wet mix. This avoids lumps and general doughy mayhem. Remember, "dry to wet". Print it up on a t-shirt, 'cause it's a useful little prep tidbit.
Beer Bread
• 3 cups self-rising flour
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 bottle room-temperature beer (Room temperature, very important)
• 1 egg
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
Preheat oven to 350°. Mix all ingredients (go ahead, get your hands dirty...it can be therapeutic). Now, here's where you have a choice. You can put it all into a 9x3 loaf pan, glaze it with the melted butter, bake it and you're good to go. Or..
"Or"?
Or...you can have some fun and make bread bowls out of it. M-m-m-m, a beer bread bowl. Maybe mix in a little pepper jack cheese into the dough. Or cheddar. Or what about some Southwestern seasoning? Cracked pepper? Make it yours, have some fun with it. Then when you have your bread bowl, carve out the middle and fill it with dip, salsa or, go ahead and put some chili in that bad boy and violá, "Dinner is served".
Lots of fun to snack on during a game, great when friends are hanging out or, as the case tonight, it's cold, dreary and I wanted to make an entrée that went well with a cold, delicious Shiner Bock beer. Know what? It worked.
Try it, lemme know what you think.
There are several recipes for beer bread, but here's one I really like. It's pretty simple, just remember, it's always easier to mix the dry ingredients to the wet mix. This avoids lumps and general doughy mayhem. Remember, "dry to wet". Print it up on a t-shirt, 'cause it's a useful little prep tidbit.
Beer Bread
• 3 cups self-rising flour
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 bottle room-temperature beer (Room temperature, very important)
• 1 egg
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
Preheat oven to 350°. Mix all ingredients (go ahead, get your hands dirty...it can be therapeutic). Now, here's where you have a choice. You can put it all into a 9x3 loaf pan, glaze it with the melted butter, bake it and you're good to go. Or..
"Or"?
Or...you can have some fun and make bread bowls out of it. M-m-m-m, a beer bread bowl. Maybe mix in a little pepper jack cheese into the dough. Or cheddar. Or what about some Southwestern seasoning? Cracked pepper? Make it yours, have some fun with it. Then when you have your bread bowl, carve out the middle and fill it with dip, salsa or, go ahead and put some chili in that bad boy and violá, "Dinner is served".
Lots of fun to snack on during a game, great when friends are hanging out or, as the case tonight, it's cold, dreary and I wanted to make an entrée that went well with a cold, delicious Shiner Bock beer. Know what? It worked.
Try it, lemme know what you think.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
"Hey There, Puddin'!"
So I was invited to friends house for "Game Night" to get through the Cincinnati dead-of-winter doldrums and I decided to make a cake, which in itself is an oddity. I'm usually the "I'll bring the chili", "I'll bring the beer" or "I know a place with great chili and beer" guy. Not usually the "dessert" guy (although I've got a killer pecan bourbon pie recipe I'll share with you sometime soon).
But it was snowing and my grandma always made a Red Velvet cake for my sister and me on Christmas so, well I felt a little nostalgic. But instead of using the Bundt cake format my grandma used to use, I broke out the cake pans and made a double-layered number.
Now, the real key to this deal was the white chocolate pudding between the two layers of red velvet cake. What? Pudding? Not icing between the layers of cake? Why?
Couple of reasons. One, icing is so, so sweet that more icing takes away from the cake flavor and pudding, whether it be chocolate, vanilla or when you can find it chocolate peanut butter work to throw the taster a "curve ball" while also providing added moisture into the cake. The key is to let the whole thing set overnight before you serve it so the pudding has time to permeate its flavor and moisture into both layers of cake.
So with two red velvet base cakes melded together with a white chocolate pudding middle and surrounded my cream cheese icing and coconut flakes you have more than a couple different textures and flavors interacting with each other to give your taster some unexpected, but welcome, experiences.
And, for a minute or two, it makes you remember very cleary a dear, dear lady who meant so much to both you and your sister. Around Christmas time as well as the rest of the year. Miss you, Grandma!
But it was snowing and my grandma always made a Red Velvet cake for my sister and me on Christmas so, well I felt a little nostalgic. But instead of using the Bundt cake format my grandma used to use, I broke out the cake pans and made a double-layered number.
Now, the real key to this deal was the white chocolate pudding between the two layers of red velvet cake. What? Pudding? Not icing between the layers of cake? Why?
Couple of reasons. One, icing is so, so sweet that more icing takes away from the cake flavor and pudding, whether it be chocolate, vanilla or when you can find it chocolate peanut butter work to throw the taster a "curve ball" while also providing added moisture into the cake. The key is to let the whole thing set overnight before you serve it so the pudding has time to permeate its flavor and moisture into both layers of cake.
So with two red velvet base cakes melded together with a white chocolate pudding middle and surrounded my cream cheese icing and coconut flakes you have more than a couple different textures and flavors interacting with each other to give your taster some unexpected, but welcome, experiences.
And, for a minute or two, it makes you remember very cleary a dear, dear lady who meant so much to both you and your sister. Around Christmas time as well as the rest of the year. Miss you, Grandma!
What's "The Rub"?
So I've been reading a lot over the past week about "rubs", you know the delicious coating that goes on a piece of meat before it sets sail on that beautiful open sea known as "the grill". The thing that turns a $6.99 steak into a $12.99 entree? Now, rubs are a little new to me, I've never made one, so I wanted to do a lot of research before posting another blog.
What a bad idea that was.
Because, like all good things in life, when you let it come to you, it's always better. Here's what I mean: I was in a used bookstore and came across a copy of Paul Kirk's Championship Barbecue Sauces book. Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with Mr. Kirk's expertise in the land of all things meaty and delicious, he's won over 400 barbecue awards, including world championships and is nicknamed "The Baron of Barbecue" by those who hold barbecue most dear. You sir, Mr. Kirk, have my attention.
So I took a Sunday afternoon and read what he had to say. Then I put his words into action.
Mr. Kirk does an extraordinary job letting everyone know that 1) He knows all the rules to making great rubs, and 2) Rules were made to be broken. He lists 30+ some odd ingredients that go into making a great rub (by the way, you should never really "rub" the rub onto the meat...it blocks up the pores and makes pockets of spice instead of creating a nice outer "skin" to both flavor the meat and seal in the juices. So just sprinkle it on and everyone will be the better for it, ok?). Kind of a misnomer in the old name department, huh? Oh well.
One thing that a good rub and, of course, time can do is to relax the meat a bit and enhance the natural flavors and attributes. And that's what we're after. Never want to mask or cover up the taste, but enhance it and help the good qualities take the stage.
Here's the rub recipe I used from Mr. Kirk's book. It's not too complicated but oh my, the taste, it was a symphony of complex flavors, textures and smells that took a simple flank steak to culinary territory it never dreamed possible.
Here's the mix I used:
1 cup sugar
1 cup garlic salt
1/2 cup paprika
3 tablespoons black pepper
2 tablespoons chipotle chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin (the greatest spice in all the world)
1 teaspoon ginger (not a ginger fan myself, but this worked out really well)
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon ground coriander
Ok, so why not just use one of the pre-made meat rubs? You can...sure. But you spend twice as much than if you'd made it yourself and you don't have any idea what's in it. Because those packets only list a "blend of spices" and never give you a clue of how much specifically. And, c'mon, if the in-laws are coming over, it's always better to say something quippy like, "Well of course, the sugar/garlic mixture work together to both carmelize the meat while enhancing it's natural flavor."
And that....that's...when you wow them by talking about the au jous that's left behind.
Au jous? There's au jous left behind? Really?
Ah yes friends. Because I grilled mine in the oven ("The Baron" said it was ok to do that, so I'm in the clear) in a cast iron ribbed skillet and the natural juices left an extraordinary au jous that you can leave for dipping, or...OR...as an excellent base for a gravy. Your choice. And either way, trust me, you are a winner.
So next time you want to add something special to any beef, pork or chicken entree, try using a rub. Just remember to coat it thoroughly, coat it completely and use low heat to not "flash" cook it. Use the base rub listed above to start but feel free to deviate, add to and subtract from it as you like.
And lemme know how it works out for you. I'm sure Mr. Kirk will be very pleased to know you're continuing his tradition.
What a bad idea that was.
Because, like all good things in life, when you let it come to you, it's always better. Here's what I mean: I was in a used bookstore and came across a copy of Paul Kirk's Championship Barbecue Sauces book. Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with Mr. Kirk's expertise in the land of all things meaty and delicious, he's won over 400 barbecue awards, including world championships and is nicknamed "The Baron of Barbecue" by those who hold barbecue most dear. You sir, Mr. Kirk, have my attention.
So I took a Sunday afternoon and read what he had to say. Then I put his words into action.
Mr. Kirk does an extraordinary job letting everyone know that 1) He knows all the rules to making great rubs, and 2) Rules were made to be broken. He lists 30+ some odd ingredients that go into making a great rub (by the way, you should never really "rub" the rub onto the meat...it blocks up the pores and makes pockets of spice instead of creating a nice outer "skin" to both flavor the meat and seal in the juices. So just sprinkle it on and everyone will be the better for it, ok?). Kind of a misnomer in the old name department, huh? Oh well.
One thing that a good rub and, of course, time can do is to relax the meat a bit and enhance the natural flavors and attributes. And that's what we're after. Never want to mask or cover up the taste, but enhance it and help the good qualities take the stage.
Here's the rub recipe I used from Mr. Kirk's book. It's not too complicated but oh my, the taste, it was a symphony of complex flavors, textures and smells that took a simple flank steak to culinary territory it never dreamed possible.
Here's the mix I used:
1 cup sugar
1 cup garlic salt
1/2 cup paprika
3 tablespoons black pepper
2 tablespoons chipotle chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin (the greatest spice in all the world)
1 teaspoon ginger (not a ginger fan myself, but this worked out really well)
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon ground coriander
Ok, so why not just use one of the pre-made meat rubs? You can...sure. But you spend twice as much than if you'd made it yourself and you don't have any idea what's in it. Because those packets only list a "blend of spices" and never give you a clue of how much specifically. And, c'mon, if the in-laws are coming over, it's always better to say something quippy like, "Well of course, the sugar/garlic mixture work together to both carmelize the meat while enhancing it's natural flavor."
And that....that's...when you wow them by talking about the au jous that's left behind.
Au jous? There's au jous left behind? Really?
Ah yes friends. Because I grilled mine in the oven ("The Baron" said it was ok to do that, so I'm in the clear) in a cast iron ribbed skillet and the natural juices left an extraordinary au jous that you can leave for dipping, or...OR...as an excellent base for a gravy. Your choice. And either way, trust me, you are a winner.
So next time you want to add something special to any beef, pork or chicken entree, try using a rub. Just remember to coat it thoroughly, coat it completely and use low heat to not "flash" cook it. Use the base rub listed above to start but feel free to deviate, add to and subtract from it as you like.
And lemme know how it works out for you. I'm sure Mr. Kirk will be very pleased to know you're continuing his tradition.
Friday, February 8, 2008
My Passion for Cast Iron
I only cook with cast iron. Period. The reason is simple – it cooks better. There is nothing better that having that seasoned flavor built in that comes from cooking many dishes (if not a little bacon grease).
It all started with my great-grandmother, Emma Fisher. She had an antique set of cast iron skillets which I inherited. When I brought them home, I was originally going to keep them aside as an heirloom, but it wasn't long before they were cooking up bacon, cornbread and other classic Americana dishes. I was hooked.
But I quickly found out cooking an egg in a cast iron skillet is next to impossible. Sure you can fry it in bacon grease, but that's not my thing. So I relegated my scrambled eggs to the old "stir two eggs in a bowl and nuke it in the microwave for 2 minutes" trick. "Nuked Eggs and Pan Fried Bacon", not exactly something you'd see on The Cracker Barrel menu, is it?
That's when I saw the new generation of cast iron cookware, with the enamel coated interior and the exterior available in another color besides black. So I ordered a set and after six months of constant use, I have not one complaint. After you season the cast iron (a 50/50 solution of EVOO and VegOil baking for an hour or so is excellent) it's ready for anything you throw at it – chilis, casseroles, bacon, even a fried egg.
I made my grandpa bacon and eggs in my cast iron skillet and his reply was, "In my 86 years, those are the best eggs I've ever had". It's easy to see why, slow heat and a seasoned surface lets the flavors seep out instead of being "flashed out" as can happen with other styles of cookware. It's your choice, but mine (and a growing number or others) prefer the new cast iron for these reasons.
Cast iron's advantage is also its downfall, it's heavy. Its dense metal construction is the very thing that can help it stay hot (or cold – freeze a cast iron pot and use it for salad or cold side dish for your next party and you'll be amazed how long it stays cool). But a filled 5 quart heavy cast iron pot can be cumbersome. So I understand why some will shy away from it.
But, if you are considering buying cast iron, I will advise you to only buy cast iron that comes with an all-metal construction. Here's why: I love to take my pots and skillets from stove top to the oven to slow roast while cooking, and you can't do that with pots that come with plastic or rubber handles (unless they're rated for 500°+). It's a great method to mix your chili recipe then put it in the oven as it gives the dish heat from all directions, not just the bottom. Doing this really releases the flavors and prevents your dish from being burnt on the bottom.
Cleanup is as simple as a paper towel to wipe out the loose stuff. And that, friends, may just be the best part.
So go ahead, break out your grandma's (or great-grandma's) cast iron, season it and make some classic Southern cornbread, fry up some bacon or fry up a pork chop or two and I think you'll start to get your own passion for cast iron cooking as well. Lemme know how it goes.
It all started with my great-grandmother, Emma Fisher. She had an antique set of cast iron skillets which I inherited. When I brought them home, I was originally going to keep them aside as an heirloom, but it wasn't long before they were cooking up bacon, cornbread and other classic Americana dishes. I was hooked.
But I quickly found out cooking an egg in a cast iron skillet is next to impossible. Sure you can fry it in bacon grease, but that's not my thing. So I relegated my scrambled eggs to the old "stir two eggs in a bowl and nuke it in the microwave for 2 minutes" trick. "Nuked Eggs and Pan Fried Bacon", not exactly something you'd see on The Cracker Barrel menu, is it?
That's when I saw the new generation of cast iron cookware, with the enamel coated interior and the exterior available in another color besides black. So I ordered a set and after six months of constant use, I have not one complaint. After you season the cast iron (a 50/50 solution of EVOO and VegOil baking for an hour or so is excellent) it's ready for anything you throw at it – chilis, casseroles, bacon, even a fried egg.
I made my grandpa bacon and eggs in my cast iron skillet and his reply was, "In my 86 years, those are the best eggs I've ever had". It's easy to see why, slow heat and a seasoned surface lets the flavors seep out instead of being "flashed out" as can happen with other styles of cookware. It's your choice, but mine (and a growing number or others) prefer the new cast iron for these reasons.
Cast iron's advantage is also its downfall, it's heavy. Its dense metal construction is the very thing that can help it stay hot (or cold – freeze a cast iron pot and use it for salad or cold side dish for your next party and you'll be amazed how long it stays cool). But a filled 5 quart heavy cast iron pot can be cumbersome. So I understand why some will shy away from it.
But, if you are considering buying cast iron, I will advise you to only buy cast iron that comes with an all-metal construction. Here's why: I love to take my pots and skillets from stove top to the oven to slow roast while cooking, and you can't do that with pots that come with plastic or rubber handles (unless they're rated for 500°+). It's a great method to mix your chili recipe then put it in the oven as it gives the dish heat from all directions, not just the bottom. Doing this really releases the flavors and prevents your dish from being burnt on the bottom.
Cleanup is as simple as a paper towel to wipe out the loose stuff. And that, friends, may just be the best part.
So go ahead, break out your grandma's (or great-grandma's) cast iron, season it and make some classic Southern cornbread, fry up some bacon or fry up a pork chop or two and I think you'll start to get your own passion for cast iron cooking as well. Lemme know how it goes.
Carroll Shelby wasn't from Cincinnati
I live in Cincinnati, originally from Indiana. Now, in Indy, when people make chili, it's their own recipe, sure. But it's got the typical red tomato base, meat, beans and spices (if you're my dad you use one of those chili-flavored dry-spice packets and say that, "Boy, you just can't beat that.").
In 2000, I came to Cincinnati and was introduced to Cincinnati-style chili. If you're from Cincinnati, this is truly chili the way God intended, but for the rest of the chili-eating universe we're frankly not sure what to make of it. Chocolate? Cinnamon? Ginger? What is that taste? And better yet, why is it in the chili? And why is it poured over spaghetti noodles? I respect it, I just don't get it.
So getting to Carrol Shelby. Carroll Shelby is a legendary race car driver, and even more famous car builder as well a recognized Texas-style chili maker (apparently they ate a lot of chili at the race tracks back in the day).
And that's how it started with me. Shelby packaged his chili mix and sold it to the public. So when I was a kid, I wanted to learn how to cook and being a fan of the classic Shelby Mustangs, I picked up a packet of Mr. Shelby's chili mix bag and proudly followed the directions to a "t" on a Friday evening. It was one of those great moments in life.
I was making chili. Texas-style. On my own.
It wasn't perfect (my fault), but it opened a window to what was to come. Cumin. Paprika. Garlic. Peppers. Onion. Chilis. Pepper and salt. All mixing and melding together to not just have a taste, but to have a "roll". A roll of flavor where you have an initial taste, then a secondary flavor, a third and then finally a nice finish. When a recipe's done correctly, all four stages work in perfect harmony to create a carnival of excellent flavor, one merging effortlessly into another like easy conversation.
Yeah, I got all that from making chili from a packet at age 12. Which is the backbone behind this blog, to share with you my cooking experiences, successes and failures as well as ask some of the hard questions, stir up a little friendly controversy, seek your expertise and make it a place where you want to check out some TexMex, down-home recipes that I sincerely hope you and your friends will enjoy.
From full-blown dinner ideas, to Friday Night EZ recipes to tailgating tips, I'll work to bring you my and my family's best recipes to enhance your next occasion. (BTW–My family and tailgating? We make everything from classic Louisiana Gumbo to gourmet veal meatballs, beer and brats, brisket and beans to made from scratch cakes and pies. My family earns its "foodie" reputation at the games and make new friends at each football game. And we never, ever have any leftovers.)
Recipes. Community. And expanding the experience. That's the job of this blog. To offer a place that inspires you to try a new recipe, spice or technique. No matter what you put in your chili.
Right Mr. Shelby?
In 2000, I came to Cincinnati and was introduced to Cincinnati-style chili. If you're from Cincinnati, this is truly chili the way God intended, but for the rest of the chili-eating universe we're frankly not sure what to make of it. Chocolate? Cinnamon? Ginger? What is that taste? And better yet, why is it in the chili? And why is it poured over spaghetti noodles? I respect it, I just don't get it.
So getting to Carrol Shelby. Carroll Shelby is a legendary race car driver, and even more famous car builder as well a recognized Texas-style chili maker (apparently they ate a lot of chili at the race tracks back in the day).
And that's how it started with me. Shelby packaged his chili mix and sold it to the public. So when I was a kid, I wanted to learn how to cook and being a fan of the classic Shelby Mustangs, I picked up a packet of Mr. Shelby's chili mix bag and proudly followed the directions to a "t" on a Friday evening. It was one of those great moments in life.
I was making chili. Texas-style. On my own.
It wasn't perfect (my fault), but it opened a window to what was to come. Cumin. Paprika. Garlic. Peppers. Onion. Chilis. Pepper and salt. All mixing and melding together to not just have a taste, but to have a "roll". A roll of flavor where you have an initial taste, then a secondary flavor, a third and then finally a nice finish. When a recipe's done correctly, all four stages work in perfect harmony to create a carnival of excellent flavor, one merging effortlessly into another like easy conversation.
Yeah, I got all that from making chili from a packet at age 12. Which is the backbone behind this blog, to share with you my cooking experiences, successes and failures as well as ask some of the hard questions, stir up a little friendly controversy, seek your expertise and make it a place where you want to check out some TexMex, down-home recipes that I sincerely hope you and your friends will enjoy.
From full-blown dinner ideas, to Friday Night EZ recipes to tailgating tips, I'll work to bring you my and my family's best recipes to enhance your next occasion. (BTW–My family and tailgating? We make everything from classic Louisiana Gumbo to gourmet veal meatballs, beer and brats, brisket and beans to made from scratch cakes and pies. My family earns its "foodie" reputation at the games and make new friends at each football game. And we never, ever have any leftovers.)
Recipes. Community. And expanding the experience. That's the job of this blog. To offer a place that inspires you to try a new recipe, spice or technique. No matter what you put in your chili.
Right Mr. Shelby?
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