Day 27: Slipping the Tongue

I’m nearing the end and the finish line is becoming visible through the thick perfume of bacon.  Breakfasts past have all blurred into one and I couldn’t remember if this morning’s breakfast was a new episode or a re-run.  I had previously criticized PC’s Bacon Marmalade for using bacon seasoning; artificial bacon flavour in a product marketed as “upscale” is just plain wrong and completely unnecessary considering how cheap and plentiful bacon is.  My previous version of this breakfast sandwich used crispy pork skin, this morning’s used bacon.  It was breakfast on the QT… as in quick and tasty.  No offence to my breakfasts over the past few weeks, but I’m longing for some yogurt.  This gives me an idea for tomorrow morning.

Bacon Marmalade and Bacon...genius!

There were plenty of leftovers from last night for today’s lunch; a few pieces of pig tail and a container full of my mother’s liver stew.  As usual, I offered to share, but the mere mention of liver causes fear in most people.  Peter, my faithful non-food-loser lunch partner was willing to try both dishes and he came away quite pleased.  The sauce of both was amazing; salty and sticky for the tails, and thick and bacony for the liver.  I freely admit to having my own fear of liver up until recent years which is understandable since unlike bacon liver really is an acquired taste.  I remember going to Swiss Chalet a few years back and nearly gagging when I ate some chicken liver that hadn’t been removed from the bird.  I was thankful for the hot lemon tea they put on the table, it got rid of the liver flavour in a hurry.  The waitress was a little surprised when I asked her for a top up…what was her problem?  But I seem to have gotten over my liver aversion at least in part, and that can only be a good thing since a broad palette opens you up to new food experiences.  Now if I could only get over my dislike of and suspected allergy to eggplant…vile weed!

Sticky tail

If last night’s dinner covered the “tail” portion, tonight’s was the “tip”.  Some people would tell you that the snout is the “tip” but I disagree.  The “tip” is technically the tongue since that’s the part that can extend the furthest forward.  As you may have guessed, I don’t really have any reservations about what parts of the animal I eat, but I fully admit that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing when it comes to cooking tongue.  My earliest recollection of cooked tongue was when my mom used to make cow’s tongue occasionally.  I remember going up to a bubbling pot that was sitting on our harvest gold stove and lifting the lid to see what was cooking.  As I lifted the lid, the tongue rose slightly out of the water, almost as if it was coming to get me.  That memory stuck for a long time and it wasn’t until I was well into my teen years that I was willing to try it once again.

My mom gave me some brief instructions last night that hinged on first boiling the tongue, then stripping it of its layer of papillae (taste buds) and then either frying to brown the meat or cooking it briefly in a tomato sauce.  Since this pig shared some genetic material with Gene Simmons, there was enough tongue to try both preparations.  I needn’t have been so apprehensive about cooking the tongue, nothing could have been easier.  I ran into a snag when peeling the layer of papillae away from the meat because some of it wasn’t cooperating.  I found a simple solution to that problem in a sharp knife and cut away the offending layers.

In the end I prepared the tongue three different ways: boiled with a drizzle of olive oil; boiled, then pan seared; and boiled, then pan seared with tomato bacon sauce.  I’m completely convinced that If I served it as presented here, nobody around the table would know its provenance, and everyone would agree that it was delicious.  Now...give me some tongue!

Pan fried

Boiled, with a drizzle of olive oil

With tomato bacon sauce

Day 26: The Tail End

Although it was plentiful in my fridge, I made a conscious (and seemingly unthinkable) decision to avoid bacon for breakfast.  Instead, I picked up a fresh croissant from the friendly girls at Brick Street Bakery and proceeded to pack it with some of the liver pate that I picked up yesterday at Starsky.  To the thick helping of pate, I added a slice of Havarti.  It was “capital T” Tasty!  Perhaps not your typical breakfast selection, but I’m a firm believer that there’s no such thing as breakfast food…breakfast is merely what you eat in the morning.

Lunch was some of yesterday’s leftover blood sausage.  I offered some to Peter since, like Mikey, he’ll try anything.  The truth is, we’ve had it together before.  In fact, a whole bunch of guys I work with have had it before during something I call “Lunch of The Titans”, a potluck where the goal is to bring something interesting or home-made.  An Estonian co-worker brought blood sausage one day and only the most adventurous among us was willing to try it.  I personally find them to be a little bland, but with a drizzle of olive oil and some coarse salt they become pretty tasty.

Lunch of the titans eventually fell by the wayside when it got too popular.  People used to ask if they could join us and we would agree, but many didn’t really understand the intention behind “Lunch of the Titans”: to share food that was special because it was either home-made or unique.  In one memorable instance, two guys showed up with a single takeout container of General Tso Chicken from Schezuan Schezuan, to nobody’s surprise but their own they were banished from future events.  I happen to love General Tso Chicken, but when two guys offer a $7 container of takeout with the expectation to share in someone’s home made salami, pasta, venison, jerk chicken, peanut butter pie, or the like, they are sorely mistaken.  The road to good food and good times while holding court with friends is seldom composed of a short cut.  Ultimately “Lunch of the Titans” fell victim to its own popularity/infamy.  The participants were repeatedly pestered about the event; “aren’t we good enough to join your party?”  The painful answer was sometimes “no”; and at the worst of times it was “no, and neither is your food”.



Blood sausage and pasta




Bacon cufflinks; eggs are the other side.



On the menu tonight was the tail part of “tip to tail” eating.  Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t actually curly, more like elongated nubs.  Originally dinner was going to be a tail stew, but then I decided to roast them in a sauce that was similar to the one I used for the feet.  After an hour and a half roasting and another 15 minutes uncovered under the broiler the skin was crispy and the sauce had a thick lip smacking quality to it from the collagen having rendered down during the roasting process.  The sauce was as good as I remembered it.  My pig’s tail dinner was supplemented by some liver stew that my mother brought over when she paid a visit with our family dog.  I could go on and on about it, but I’ll keep it short: Best damn liver stew I’ve ever had.  Mom left before I could eat it, so I didn’t get to ask her how she made it.  But since mom cooks on the fly, I know full well that any recipe she would share would best be described as an estimate.    That’s why my mom and I can’t bake…we lack the ability to follow a recipe, and that’s fine by me.



Roasted and bubbling tails



On the right: could be a tail, could be an elongated nipple, could be a ....?

Liver stew : Sweet  livr

Not quite an anagram

Day 25: Impromptu Sausage Party

This morning’s breakfast was a tribute to the ridiculous; the coconutellvis: a triple decker peanut butter, coconut butter, nutella, banana, honey and bacon sandwich.  Good thing I had a breakfast partner to split it with.  My nephew Anthony is the definition of lean, so I wasn’t worried that the calorie count would have any long lasting effects on him.  We assembled it together and enjoyed the sizzle as the sandwich hit the hot pan.  Once cut open, it oozed a gooey burst of flavour.  Neither half-sandwich  lasted long, and our cups of cold milk went with the coconutellvis as well as beer goes with wings.  I absolutely loved it and showed that the ridiculous can be good for reasons beyond the appreciation of sheer absurdity…Anthony seemed less impressed, but I suspect it’s because he doesn’t like anything to get in the way of bacon flavour.

Pig tails seasoned as waiting to be stewed for tomorrow's dinner

Anthony and I joined my parents for a lunch of pappardelle with pork sauce.  Mom gave me some quick lessons on the tomato sauce which was made with sausage and pork rib ends.  Apparently a good sauce will show that it’s done when a layer of oil forms at the top…you can then choose whether to drain that layer off, or stir it back in.  I’m not convinced of mom’s method here, it smacks of an old wives tale, but the sauce was amazing so I guess I have no reason to doubt whatever witchcraft she’s got going on in the kitchen.

Pappardelle with tomato pork sauce

I was out in Mississauga and passed by Starsky, a well-known Polish grocery store.  I’ve been told that it has the largest deli meat counter in North America.  After seeing it for myself for the first time, I believe it.  The choice was simply overwhelming.  I picked up three types of raw sausage, blood sausage, smoked sausage, two types of bacon, salo, pork pate, pork stock cubes, potato and bacon perogies, and a seasoning mix for pork.  Admittedly, I went a little overboard on my shopping trip…that can happen when you have bacon on the brain.  But it’s hard to resist when the sights and smells are all around you. 

Only one section of the deli meats counter

Paul Prudhomme?  I swear that's Dom Delouise!

I called my brother Paul and asked what he was doing for dinner.  When he told me that his family was going to prepare something small, I offered to bring the party to his place; and that’s how the impromptu sausage party came to be.  The pork based offering of 5 types of sausage and two types of bacon was impressive and delicious, but I was sad to find that nobody was willing to have the blood sausage.  I prefer mine with a drizzle of olive oil and a dash of salt.  But it’s true, the taste isn’t for everyone, and some people can’t get past the name…blood sausage…say it slowly, it really does make it less appetizing.

Rib flavoured stock cubes

Pork liver pate x 3

Day 24: Expensive tools

Last night’s dinner was still filling my belly so I didn’t make breakfast.  I needed to head downtown, so I figured I’d grab an early lunch while I was out.  I met some friends at the Home Show and was immediately struck with a small measure of barbeque envy.  Only the best of the best were on display and they were built like stainless steel weapons of barbeque supremacy…expensive weapons of barbeque supremacy (we’re talking over $10k).  I freely admit to wanting one of them, but I was also reminded of The Black Hoof’s humble electric stove and how expensive tools for the delivery of heat and flame are just that…expensive tools for the delivery of heat and flame.  Just like having a more expensive car doesn’t make you a better driver, having a more expensive barbeque doesn’t make you a better cook.  At least some cars will hit the brakes for you in an emergency or parallel park for you, but I don’t yet know of a barbeque that will cook you the perfect meal unassisted.  I’ve been to more than one cookout where a powerful grill in the wrong hands only ensured that your overcooked steak was delivered to you quickly and with the texture of show leather…the clueless cook saying “How about those grill marks?” in complete ignorance of the fact that the steak was inedible.

As the day began to get away from me, skipping breakfast turned out to be a mistake.  I stopped in to see the friendly guys at Totera, my neighbourhood’s best butcher shop.  Sam confirmed that there wasn’t much left for me to try, so I walked away with some fresh liver and plans to order a suckling pig for the final Saturday dinner.

On the way out, I grabbed some porchetta and a prosciutto shank so I could make a late lunch.  One might not think of a slab of porchetta as fitting the category of “snack”, but when you really think about it everything is potentially a snack, it just depends on how much of it you eat.  I managed to restrict myself to just a few bites of the porchetta, choosing instead to share it with my family at a birthday dinner tonight.  Lunch was a sandwich of thickly cut prosciutto with fresh mozzarella, and crispy bits of fried diced prosciutto.  Although intended to be a snack sandwich, it turned out to be a decadent indulgence…I felt sleepy.

Dinner was prepared at my parents’ house and although I originally intended to merely take a few pointers from my mom on my planned liver dish, her cooking instincts kicked in and I was forced to take a back seat.  It’s amazing to watch her work in the kitchen, everything comes together so effortlessly.  The process punctuated by pauses where she says “we should add this”, or “we should add that”…always in the right order and never too late.  Coming out of my pork liver congee experience, I insisted on plenty of ginger to “get the liverness out”.  Mom was hesitant but went along with the idea.  What emerged looked and smelled great.  Even some of the liver haters tried it and while it didn’t convert them into liver lovers, they admitted that it wasn’t bad.  I reluctantly admit that I seem to be developing a taste for it.

Plenty of ginger

Top 5 Sandwiches

Since I’ve made a number of references to my “Top 5 Sandwiches” I thought I’d share the list with you.

In no particular order, here they are:

• Heirloom tomato sandwich  (tomatoes from my garden)
• Prosciutto with mozzarella di buffala, arugula and olive oil
• Venison with mayonnaise, grainy mustard, avocado and arugula
• Roasted mushrooms with Havarti, fried arugula and bacon
• Fried egg sandwich (has to have a runny yolk) with bacon (3 types), mayonnaise and Havarti...hell, throw some arugula in there too!

Take note that pork is included in 3 of the 5, but it could easily be added to all of them.

Day 23: Reconnections

I didn’t get much sleep last night, a grand total of four hours.  So even if I was hungry, I wouldn’t have had time to eat.  So much for that; like so many other things in life that were “meant to be done”, breakfast became a victim of time.  I would have loved to have another Elvis, or maybe even another stab at the Jellvis whose first appearance was marred by home-made Jam courtesy of one of my mom’s friends in the Catholic Women’s League.  Marred because the jam, while tasty and possibly infused with the grace of God (does that make it tastier?), was a little runny, causing the maiden Jellvis to be a little soggy.  I have to wonder what the Catholic Women’s League thinks about an atheist eating their wares.  Will my consumption of the jam leave a black mark on their records?  Enough of that; and back to the Elvis and its iterations…I’ve come up with one more: the Coconutellvis.  I named it last night over dinner with my cousin and it stems from one of my favourite sandwiches, a peanut butter, nutella and coconut butter sandwich.  It doesn't have a name...but it's a fucking masterpiece.  I indulge in one every now and then when I’m in a dirty food kind of mood.  The way I envision it, the Coconutellvis has to be a double Elvis with the middle slice being spread with coconut butter on one side and nutella on the other.  Double the bacon; double the banana; double the honey, and double the risk of a fucking heart attack…or at the very least, a cavity.  I’m not sure it will crack my firm “top 5 sandwiches list”, but it might make the second tier of the “top 10”.

Sandwiches…they’re my holy grail of food.  Versatile; portable; tasty…ephemeral.  I’m so dedicated to the sandwich that it figures into my answer for the old question “What would you do if you won the lottery?”  Simple, I’d open a sandwich shop where the art of the sandwich would be the top priority and profit would be a secondary concern.  There would be no substitutions since I, as the sandwich expert, would know what was best for you.  It would be the kind of place where vegetarian sandwiches would come with bacon for no reason other than that pigs love vegetables.  And anyone who protested would be summarily dismissed and branded a food loser on their way out…with an actual branding iron!

Related  to sandwiches was today’s lunch.  I met up with my friend Burm and set out in search of something to eat.  A second night in a row of eating out had deprived me of the joy known simply as “leftovers”.  There wasn’t much pork on offer, and the endless examples of “ham and cheese” sandwiches did nothing for me.  They were the very definition of sandwich boringness.  The other option was sweet and sour pork which seemed to be available at every Asian restaurant.  I ultimately settled on pork souvlaki on a pita, and as I sat down and took a bite Burm knew exactly what I was thinking.  There was no joy in eating it.  The taste, the texture, it all seemed to be lacking.  He hit the nail on the head when he proclaimed it as “fuel, not food”.  If it wasn’t my month of pork, I would have been better off with a vitamin pill, a doughnut and a glass of water.

Dinner was part experimental, part traditional, and all special.  Mike, my ex-brother-in-law (ex-wife’s sister’s husband), was coming over.  We’ve been in contact over the past couple of years, but haven’t actually gotten together.  There’s a legitimate reason for this… Mike is likely the busiest person on the planet.  As a dedicated family man and recognized expert in his chosen field of work, he’s either occupied at home with his young children, or travelling the globe on business.  He’s one of the smartest guys I know, and I think most who meet him aspire to be like him in some way with the exclusion of his cholesterol problem.  We were joined by my brother Marco who paid an impromptu visit and brought gifts of pork back ribs.

We all caught up over what once began the typical meal for Mike and me: a cheese and salumi platter.  Unfortunately, the cholesterol problem forced Mike to turn down the salo, but the home-made salami went quickly as did the prosciutto and cured bacon.  We talked of family, business, culture, travel to far off lands, wrecked cars, broken hearts, allegiances and obligations, battles won and lost, building houses and tearing down walls, and as was always a hot topic for Mike and I (and Marco as well)… the love of food .

We destroyed the platter before I got a chance to take a photo

The ribs cooked on the barbeque as we turned to the next course of Barese sausage, which was followed by my inside-out experiment.  Bacon wrapped scallops are quite common, but what if I managed to switch that around and make scallop wrapped bacon?  I set to work fileting large scallops into long thin slices and proceeded to wrap them around bacon rolls that I had baked in the oven.  They were finished off on the barbeque for a couple of minutes and what emerged tasted exactly like what you’d expect, except that with a full slice of bacon, the emphasis was on the pork instead of the seafood.

Inside out: scallop wrapped bacon

 

Shredded carrot and fennel salad: an afterthought.

Somewhere in the middle of things, Marco had to leave, but Mike stuck around.  The hours slipped away as the wine glasses were filled and refilled, first with a South African pinotage that Mike had been holding on to for a couple of years, then with a Italian ripasso that had spent some time in my cellar.  Before we knew it, it was 1:30 and Mike had to go as well. We committed to doing this more often; and definitely sooner rather than later.