Brandon Eats

Havana '59

Late again for my own party--here's a link to my review of Havana '59 appearing in Style Weekly as of yesterday.

Egg-zactly

Another little tidbit (slightly modified) from the past to keep you going until I can post again.

It's not hard to think of literally dozens of recipes that would showcase the lovely farm eggs of Brookview Farm I buy every week--you know, the ones I've been exhorting you to go down to the Farmers' Market and buy? Wherever you might get them, farm eggs are worth seeking out and paying a premium for--consider yourself lucky if you have access to them at all. In a previous post I mentioned living on a farm and not being allowed to touch a single one of the many, MANY eggs the chickens there laid every day. In fact, I had to listen to the farm manager complain about all of the eggs she was forcing herself to eat and how monotonous she found it. All the while I fumed inwardly, cursing this woman and her lack of imagination. I had to drive 25 miles into town to buy pricey organic eggs on a grad student's salary. I knew what I would do with all of those extra eggs if I had a chance.

I Will Post Again, Possibly

Soon, my little pork dumplings, soon I really will post again.  See that picture up there?  I was actually able to boil water for pasta on my new stove--it is a miracle, indeed.  The rest of the kitchen remains a contruction site however, and since the dish-slaves have complained loudly about the lack of sink/automatic dishwasher, my cooking impulses are still seriously circumscribed. 

Now It Looks Like a Kitchen

Although most kitchens have appliances.  And electricity.

A future concrete counter.  Actually, it isn't ours; it belongs to Backyard Boulangerie, damn him and his almost-finished kitchen.  I have no pull with anybody in this town. 

Smoky Chicken

If it weren't for the smoke I'd love to grill.  In fact, that's why I like my stove so much.  However, a gas range just doesn't provide that crazy, addictive, smoky flavor I start think about when the mercury dips below a hundred and settles into the low-nineties.  Although I aways try to recruit someone else to do the actual grilling, my charm alone isn't unfailingly successful--especially when the person in question has been working outside all day in the (still considerable) heat and truly DOESN'T CARE what he eats, as long as it's food.

Meeshell's Saigon Grilled Corn

Fresh corn in the summertime just needs a pot of boiling water, and some salt along with plenty of butter when it comes out.  Grilling said corn is for testosterone-charged show-offs; that's always been my conviction.  Of course, when someone presents you with a ferociously good twist on a tired-out, old theme, it's time to reconsider, don't you think?  Great cooks can come in unexpectedly small packages, like the effervescent Meeshell V., who, as she feeds her hordes of friends, always maximizes creativity without sacrificing taste.