Vinyl Pickups/Cooking Things/Lame Jokes
Before I put a bow on the review marathon from last weekend, I have two more sort of P.S. posts I want to get out there, there being here, the good ole Nicsperiment.
In between all of that movie-watching, video-game playing, and reviewing, I cooked myself a bunch of food, and listened to some records. For whatever reason, my genres of choice in record-listening while cooking are generally quite different from the ones I listen to when I'm not standing in front of a stove. Maybe it's a comfort thing, but when I cook, I generally throw on some 70's folk rock, likely because it reminds me of my childhood, or maybe because my cooking persona, Le Nicsperimente, is just really lame.
Night One:
My local Winn-Dixie closed about a month ago, and they basically paid me to take this giant package of country style ribs. I cooked them by mostly following this recipe, and I have to say, they are the best thing I've ever made in a slow-cooker, and full of flavor. I also made mashed potatoes, using a recipe I just made up as I went along, and they were awesome, too. Every woman I've ever lived with, aka both, have complained that making mashed potatoes is too work-intensive and time consuming, but after making them myself, I'm not sure what they are talking about...and I mashed these things by hand. Maybe they are just potatoists. Also, my toes are in this picture, though I did not eat them. Also, I love the one bit of barbecue sauce that didn't melt into the ribs.
Full disgusting disclosure: I licked it off.
A few weeks ago, I went to my...only local record store...oh, wait, nevermind, looks like it's closing...great, and picked up a couple of ancient albums from the used section. The first is John Denver's Poems, Prayers, and Promises. I've had fond feelings toward Denver since he brainwashed me as an adolescent into going into a rage every time I see someone cut down a tree.
Poems, Prayers, and Promises comes in about as simple a package as possible, and you'd be forgiven to think it will be lousy because I sure did, but as soon as the needle hits the wax, and Denver sings the first note, his soaring voice is so beautiful and innocent and pure, I found myself getting misty eyed, and I wasn't even chopping up onions, or thinking about my social life.
Night Two:
The next night I fried some rabbit, using my own seasonal blend, and boiled a sweet potato. Yes, I said "boiled." It's faster than baking them, and it tastes just as great, especially with butter and brown sugar. I drank whatever this local craft beer is in the corner of the picture, along with some Jameson that's out of the frame, and now currently empty. Rabbit is one of the most underrated meats in my opinion--it's essentially chicken in different cuts. It's like the Steve Young of meats--it's essentially Joe Montana in different cuts. Maybe that was too obscure. It's like the Peter Davison of meats--it's essentially Tom Baker in different cuts. Wait, still too obscure? It's like the Château Haut-Brion of meats--it's essentially Château Montrose in different cuts. There, much better. Finally an analogy everyone will get.
That night I threw on another folk rock record, this time from America. Some of America's best stuff I can listen to anytime, not just while I'm cooking. This album, Hideaway, is not their best stuff, even though the packaging is far more elaborate than that of the John Denver album. Unfortunately, the songs just aren't very memorable, and it doesn't feel like they are leaning into those great harmonies like they used to. Also, does anyone know what happened to the Budweiser frogs? Those tipsy amphibians were just so ribbity-hopping hilarious.
Night Three:
The final night of the review marathon, I found that my garden had given me way too many tomatoes. This pic shows maybe 1/3 of them, and that doesn't count the ones that got rain-bursted on the vine. Yes, if you don't use it, you don't lose it...it just painfully explodes, and is ruined. So use it, and make sure to get your prostate checked on a regular basis.
I decided I should make some spaghetti sauce out of them, even though I didn't have several of the ingredients necessary for spaghetti sauce, and even though none of them were the kind of tomatoes generally used to make spaghetti sauce. Also, I didn't have the energy to get the seeds out. I made some meatballs, too, even though I only had ground meat with far to high of a fat ratio to use as meatballs. The result is below, a tangy, seedy sauce over some flukily delicious meatballs. Also those peppers diced in there are from my garden, as well, though the fork was grown in China.
My wife, upon seeing the picture, asked, "Why didn't you put the sauce on the meatballs?"
"Because I just wrote 11 reviews," I said.
In between all of that movie-watching, video-game playing, and reviewing, I cooked myself a bunch of food, and listened to some records. For whatever reason, my genres of choice in record-listening while cooking are generally quite different from the ones I listen to when I'm not standing in front of a stove. Maybe it's a comfort thing, but when I cook, I generally throw on some 70's folk rock, likely because it reminds me of my childhood, or maybe because my cooking persona, Le Nicsperimente, is just really lame.
Night One:
My local Winn-Dixie closed about a month ago, and they basically paid me to take this giant package of country style ribs. I cooked them by mostly following this recipe, and I have to say, they are the best thing I've ever made in a slow-cooker, and full of flavor. I also made mashed potatoes, using a recipe I just made up as I went along, and they were awesome, too. Every woman I've ever lived with, aka both, have complained that making mashed potatoes is too work-intensive and time consuming, but after making them myself, I'm not sure what they are talking about...and I mashed these things by hand. Maybe they are just potatoists. Also, my toes are in this picture, though I did not eat them. Also, I love the one bit of barbecue sauce that didn't melt into the ribs.
Full disgusting disclosure: I licked it off.
A few weeks ago, I went to my...only local record store...oh, wait, nevermind, looks like it's closing...great, and picked up a couple of ancient albums from the used section. The first is John Denver's Poems, Prayers, and Promises. I've had fond feelings toward Denver since he brainwashed me as an adolescent into going into a rage every time I see someone cut down a tree.
Poems, Prayers, and Promises comes in about as simple a package as possible, and you'd be forgiven to think it will be lousy because I sure did, but as soon as the needle hits the wax, and Denver sings the first note, his soaring voice is so beautiful and innocent and pure, I found myself getting misty eyed, and I wasn't even chopping up onions, or thinking about my social life.
Night Two:
The next night I fried some rabbit, using my own seasonal blend, and boiled a sweet potato. Yes, I said "boiled." It's faster than baking them, and it tastes just as great, especially with butter and brown sugar. I drank whatever this local craft beer is in the corner of the picture, along with some Jameson that's out of the frame, and now currently empty. Rabbit is one of the most underrated meats in my opinion--it's essentially chicken in different cuts. It's like the Steve Young of meats--it's essentially Joe Montana in different cuts. Maybe that was too obscure. It's like the Peter Davison of meats--it's essentially Tom Baker in different cuts. Wait, still too obscure? It's like the Château Haut-Brion of meats--it's essentially Château Montrose in different cuts. There, much better. Finally an analogy everyone will get.
That night I threw on another folk rock record, this time from America. Some of America's best stuff I can listen to anytime, not just while I'm cooking. This album, Hideaway, is not their best stuff, even though the packaging is far more elaborate than that of the John Denver album. Unfortunately, the songs just aren't very memorable, and it doesn't feel like they are leaning into those great harmonies like they used to. Also, does anyone know what happened to the Budweiser frogs? Those tipsy amphibians were just so ribbity-hopping hilarious.
Night Three:
The final night of the review marathon, I found that my garden had given me way too many tomatoes. This pic shows maybe 1/3 of them, and that doesn't count the ones that got rain-bursted on the vine. Yes, if you don't use it, you don't lose it...it just painfully explodes, and is ruined. So use it, and make sure to get your prostate checked on a regular basis.
I decided I should make some spaghetti sauce out of them, even though I didn't have several of the ingredients necessary for spaghetti sauce, and even though none of them were the kind of tomatoes generally used to make spaghetti sauce. Also, I didn't have the energy to get the seeds out. I made some meatballs, too, even though I only had ground meat with far to high of a fat ratio to use as meatballs. The result is below, a tangy, seedy sauce over some flukily delicious meatballs. Also those peppers diced in there are from my garden, as well, though the fork was grown in China.
My wife, upon seeing the picture, asked, "Why didn't you put the sauce on the meatballs?"
"Because I just wrote 11 reviews," I said.
Comments