Monthly Archives: January 2010

(Update) Challenge: January 23!

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Everyone was super-great about getting back to me with suggestions as to what to make. Unfortunately, since my flat’s kitchen is smaller than a breadbox, the rolling out of pie crust becomes a logistical nightmare for which Oxford did not prepare me; in addition, I simply don’t have the equipment for blood puddin’ sausage makin’, and seeing how I move in less than a week…

Soooo, we’re gonna take Jared’s idea and make an unhealthy hamburger! While technically I’ve made them numerous times, I’m gonna try to raise the bar (ie, spend more money on ingredients) by using this recipe.

That’s right, I’m going to be topping my burgers with bacon, Gruyere, and… foie gras!  It’s certainly unhealthy enough; over 1000 calories and 119% of my daily fat intake.  If you notice, too, the nutritional information was calculated sans fatty quacker liver, so you can only imagine how high the numbers will go then…

When Your Guac Gets AIDS: A Lesson in Oxidation and the Proper Treatment of Avocados

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We all cherish avocado, but let’s admit it:  it’s not a very giving lover.  Half the time we find in the store, it’s completely unripe and could be used as a whetstone.  Other times, it’s so ridiculously soft that merely inspecting it in the supermarket not only dents the damn peel, but unleashes the sickeningly sweet stench of death.  Avocados are fickle.

Even if, though, you either happen to luck out and discover the Most Perfectly Ripe Avocado in your supermarket (as I did at Marks & Spencer the other day), or you buy an unripe one, put it in a brown paper bag on your kitchen counter (sure-fire method) and let it stew for a day or two, once you pop that green gooper’s cherry you’d better be willing to commit.  That’s right — in the words of the immortal Beyonce, if you like it then you’d better put a ring on it.  Consume that avocado immediately, man, or you’ll get burned.

For the Golden Globe Awards on Sunday, I decided to have a one-man party in my flat in London as the actual ceremony started at 1 am local time, making it rather difficult for those with busier schedules than mine (read: those who are gainfully employed).  Still, as I am never one to turn down a chance at celebratory awards decadence, I made some homemade potato skins, some deviled eggs, piled up some cheeses, and rounded it all off with a bag of tortilla chips and some of my dang good guacamole.

My standard recipe calls for four avocados — which, if there are two to three people, seems to be almost not enough.  The cheese and eggs were, in fact, last minute additions and thus under my original calculations I figured the guacamole would be consumed entirely by yours truly.  Consequently, I prepared far too much food for one person (thanks for rubbing off on me, Mom) and there was, gasp, a gratuitous guac surplus.

I’m not going to lie — I knew what would happen; I just should have tossed it in the trash.  Even lemon juice cannot stop the hands of time.  Still, my Moneyless Self did not want to waste the £2.50:  I kept the guacamole, hoping beyond hope that the magically foggy weather of England would over-hydrate the air and stave off oxidation.  Oh, how wrong was I.  Click here for the result.  Possibly NSFW; certainly not to be done with any Mexicans around.

The only avocados truly safe from oxidation are those from which you abstain.  No lemon-flavored spermicide can save you from the grey-brown, airy HIV of the Aztec testicle tree.

Chicken and the Chippy

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Ah, England!  When I informed my friends and colleagues that I was moving from Japan to Oxford, the first comment out of every Japanese person’s mouth was, “But the food is so terrible!”  I do not disagree.

Where the motherland DOES succeed, thankfully, is in the art of the chippy — your local, slightly frightening and dingy little shack that serves up kebab, burgers, pies, and — of course — fish and chips.  Now, contrary to claims otherwise, a trip to a chippy is indeed not healthy at all, and subsequently I avoid both them and kebab vans unless I’m proper drunk or very poor.

Luckily for this blog post, while I wasn’t drunk the other night, I was Quite Poor and Exceptionally Lazy, so I decided to march over to the local greasepit and ordered up a chicken fillet burger.  Expecting less-than-sensational quality and horrible stomach pain, I was surprised beyond all imagining to discover that I had received the best goddamned chicken burger in the world.

Rather than a weird reconstituted patty, the sandwich was made of two perfectly cooked (greasy but not too greasy, nice and crisp) giant chicken tenders that more or less melted in my mouth.  I fell in love, and have had two since.

Unfortunately, the chippy here in Sydenham (SE26) seems pretty lackluster about its other staples.  I tried a kebab against my better judgment (I was tipsy that night, so I’m convinced I’m not to blame), and I am dismayed to report that it was not unlike consuming styrofoam.  Sigh.

After all, I don’t think it’s too much to expect that, when I order fast food, it tastes like the stray cat or rodent from which it’s made.  The UK obviously needs to take a few pointers from Taco Bell.