All posts filed under: Roasting

Tales of Woe ~ The one with the Cauliflower

Since in this month’s Raw Spice Bar shipment I got an extra packet of Memphis Rub Dry Mix, I didn’t want it to go to waste… so I put on the thinking spurs. Jane and I have both seen wondrous, spiced, roasted cauliflowers on various media outlets and really wanted to give one a try… this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Slather on your spice mix – roast for 30 to 45 minutes – be rewarded with amazing roasted cauliflower deliciousness. It sounds easy… right? It sounds too easy to be true… right? Okay.. like everything else that sounds too good to be true… so was the cauliflower recipe. Here’s the thing. Cauliflower is dense. 30 minutes… 50 minutes… 1 hour in an oven just isn’t going to heat deep enough through all that bulk to do anything more than softening up the outer lobes a bit… and heat the center….maybe. All in all – cooking time was 1 hour and 20 minutes at 375. I then turned off the oven and let the head rest in there …

The Pink Pig – Roasted

The Pink Pig. Those three odd little words used to conjure all kinds of wonder and joy in children when I was a little guy. Why? Because… it was a ride, A RIDE,  located high on top of the Rich’s Department Store in downtown Atlanta. They would only crank the behemoth up at Christmastime to thrill the kids – who in turn would whine, cry and then force their parents to drive all the way downtown to do their Christmas shopping. My parents either didn’t listen to us… or knew exactly what the pig was.. Either way, we never got see… let alone ride the pig. The closest we ever got to the downtown Rich’s was either on a Sunday drive (when it was closed), or occasionally to see the lighting of the Big Tree at Thanksgiving (again, when Rich’s was closed)…. My folks didn’t do gimmicks. I finally got to see the infamous “pig” some years later after I had started driving. It was a cheesy monorail… … that rattled and clanged … and moved slower than …

Chicken Little ~ or, Cornish Game Hens

    Every once in a while little chickens made an appearance at the dinner table. We (the kids) felt fancy – primarily because we were eating chicken with a long, complicated name… and we got a whole bird… and we could pretend we were giants… That is, until dad saw us playing with our food and would pinch the bejeezus out of our sides… and make us eat our dinner sitting on the toilet…. good times… But when you get right down to it – there really isn’t anything fancy about a Rock Cornish Game Hen; the name is somewhat  of a misnomer. It’s just a tiny one pound hen. Grown in about 20 to 25 days, the “game hen” is a hybrid mix of a Cornish Game (just a name of a chicken) and a White Rock Chicken – both smaller chicken breeds. They’re bred for larger breasts and a better fat-to-meat ratio, giving you that full blown roasted hen feel, in a single serving package. I used to buy them a lot, …

Blind Adoration

There are a couple of television celebrity cooks … chefs… people out there that I simply adore. We share the same mindset in cooking, and I find that refreshing in what’s becoming an overcrowded attack on the senses. I think  Laura Caulder  is sublime – I love her simple, carefree attitude with cooking and her unfettered  approach to French food. Nigella Lawson.. is a goddess. She cooks what she wants, eats what she wants, and damn the naysayers. I’d pull up a chair to her table any day. naysayers… It’s funny… I post my personal recipes across several different platforms on the web, professional and not – so professional. Some I lay claim to.. If I’m pushed for a deadline and I throw something together… you probably wont see my name on it. But when I do,  often times people will write, tell me they tried a recipe, and either say how well they liked it (occasionally) or that they didn’t care for it so much (more often than you would like to think). But then there was …

A day late and a dolla’ short

2011? Well, it’s over…   done with…   gone… and save for a few bright moments and flickers of joy – It was an abysmally bad year here at Turtle Creek, and one I’d really care not to repeat anytime soon. So I’m closing the books on ol’ 11 and onward and upwards to number 12. I’m on to bigger posts for MR Fodder, better resumes and interviews for that whole under employment thingy, and finally putting a couple of things to right that have been eating at me for a while. Fair warning – I’m enlisting everyone and everything I can think of to make it so… short of dousing myself in chicken blood and dancing naked under a full moon…. it really doesn’t work, you’ll have to take my word on that one. Starting with day one – the New Years Day Dinner. Every culture has some food talisman intended to generate health, good luck, immense wealth. The Peruvians chow down on potatoes cooked with saffron to emulate pots of gold; Asians munch on super long bundles of noodles twined into …

Curb Market Crawl – Big Honkin’ Carrots

I’d love to say I found these at some out of the way produce stand – tucked into the hills like some bountiful Garden of Eden. I didn’t. I don’t think any grower in their right mind would intentionally grow horse-leg carrots. I got these at that meglo-maniacal warehouse food store we all love to hate. I’m still pouring over recipes for the wedding dinner, and I’ve yet to find that ONE incredible veggie dish. So when I came across the small orange trees, I thought roasted carrots might just be the thing. Here’s the thing with carrots. Typically, the smaller the tuber, the sweeter the carrot. And adversely, the larger the carrot, the stronger the flavor. So, working with large carrots, we’re combating very heady flavors and not a lot of succulentness.(I know, it’s not a word.) Pouring through my reference books, most of what I found amped up the sweetness with honey or brown sugar, and jiggered the flavor by augmenting it with spice. Since my clients like the East Indian flavorings, I …