Three times the charm...

I ate over the weekend. That's an understatement really, thanks to my older brother just having to age another year, I found myself feasting like it was my favorite holiday, Thanks Eastermas. However, there are some things in life that you find and never forget. I had something over the past weekend that truly made my mouth dance.

I was at an Italian style restaurant that has never in my previous two visits pleased me. I don't know the rules, so I am not sure if I can say the name, but I will say it rimes with Barrabbas. Anyway, as I have mentioned, in the long run, this restaurant is simply mediocre. The previous dishes lacking that little extra that makes you want to return. I have previously complained that their beer list was cliche (bud, Coors, miller, Sam Adams, Heineken, corona, give or take a few, sounds familiar?) and lacking a true selection for proper food pairings.

All complaints aside, my brother was nice enough to take my good friend and I out with him and his wife. I remembered something he had eaten on my last visit, which I wanted over the fish that I was so offended by at the time. All I could remember was goat cheese. I searched and searched and there it was.

Chicken Bryan. A char grilled chicken fillet, butterflied, and covered with a bright lemon, butter, basil sauce. Atop this seasoned and most certainly loved piece of meat sat the crown for the king, two slices of creamy goat cheese. The side was simply broccoli (I opted against mashed potatoes because of carbs.)

When you put this morsel in your mouth, you could not help but close your eyes to allow your tongue to experience every level of flavor. First was the burst of lemon in the smooth butter sauce, then you were able to experience the seasonings of the meat itself. The final compliment was the cheese. Creamy. Smooth. Turning the bite into an experience which you tried with all your strength to swallow slowly. The lingering flavor was not as inviting as it was demanding of another bite. I did not at the time, but a meal like this will pair perfectly with a light in color or lemony beer. I would recommend a Paulaner or Franziskaner Wheat, if a Pale ale is not available.

I will not jump to return to this restaurant, due to past disappointments, but in the future, hold the menu, please. Ill just have the chicken.

Axiom #1

Beer is at the same time, as complicated, as sophisticated,
and a better product in general than wine.

This is, I know, a bold statement to make. But hear me out. First of all, I want to admit that I am slightly biased. Three years moving cases of beer for a living gives you a lot to think about. There are so many styles and brands, names and pictures, walls upon walls to look upon and dream. Every case a new world, every bottle story. but hey, that's just me.

Beer begins at the boil. You take the grains you want and you, in essence, make tea. Grains range from very light to very dark (dark grains make dark beer.) You can, if you wanted, make a beer dark in color with less flavor than Coors Light (so please give dark beer a break, it just looks scary.) Malt is the primary flavor of the beer. It gives it its main body and mouth feel and makes the beer sweet. The hops are added to balance the sweet with bitterness and give the beer its flowery aroma. You can also add spices to the boil or during fermentation to change the flavor.

As you can see, the beer process is more complicated than that for wine and the combinations are more vast. Have you ever heard of a coffee or a chili pepper wine? These are very real and very tasty beer flavors. Beer has so many different grains to chose from, sure you have many varieties of grapes, but there are so many more types of grain and any number of varieties for these types.

The original beer was lumpy, bitter, and cheap. Its no wonder that it took second chair to wine in history. That does not make the beverage worthless, though. Mesopotamian culture had a god for beer. Industrial England built itself on the backs of workers who drank beer primarily. Even our president, poor taste aside, chose beer over wine.

It's no mistake that, "He who invented beer was a wise man", was a true Socrates quote. This beverage has survived throughout the course of man, built cities, and has only gotten better. With micro-breweries growing, we find ourselves in a beer revolution. Beer is gathering power and we are very good at making it. Don't kid yourself that the stuff of frat parties is an indication of the industry on whole. Would a wine drinker curse his beverage because Franzia exists? There is a world out there waiting to be discovered. Go down to your local bar with even a half decent selection and order yourself a bottle of human history. Tell them Geoff sent you.

The Sorry Price of Left Brain Use...

I get to have a treat soon. There is a particular item which at the same time arouses many emotions in me; nostalgia, delight, giddiness, and of course... hunger. I am talking of course about meatloaf. the meal everyone knows and only a few fear (I'm guessing they eat the wrong meatloaf.) But this is a journey I had to come to on my own. A trip around my own head and back to where the heart is.

This story begins about the time I was 10 when my father told my mother that her meatloaf reminded him of dog food. Don't jump to conclusions, my father is the hardest eater to please. He wont eat anything complicated. He wont even eat chicken. Enough about him; fast foreword in time to my college years when a scent, being the strongest memory activator, reminded me of a dinner we hadn't had in years. I asked my mom why she stopped making her meatloaf that I remember so well and you can see why.

A rebirth, nay, a renaissance if you will, took place in those weeks to come. However, I am no ordinary lover of the kitchen, I am one to experiment. I will get into that later but even when I brewed beer, the style was not as important as the ingredient. The twist to make it unique, to bring out its essence. I turned this murderous eye on my poor mothers meatloaf. I made creativity upon it.

I began with the meat itself, I used pork for flavor and turkey for health. I then removed the mouthwatering sauce in favor for a bacon shell. I shrieked and laughed into the night as I made my monster and it lived... oh, it lived. But some beasts are not meant for this earth. The meat, lacking proper fat was dry, the edges thick with rendered bacon grease. Not even mashed potatoes could save this feast.

I learned a lesson that day. There are any number of ways to prepare a dish but there is only one way to do it right. Soon I will make the meatloaf as it was made by mother, with the same meat, and the same sauce. I will love it, and I will mourn the empty pan.

"If it aint broke, don't fix it." It goes to show you, that creativity is fun and all, but within reason. Ill try to keep mine under control.

A Change of Heart...

Every one oppinions. One day, and it mights have already happened, you will have a moment of self insight. You will realize that within your mind lies a belief that you always had but never really thought about it. I had such an insight the other day.

There I was, basking in the semi cool, totally refreshing waters of a friends heated pool. This was one of those days when Lady Luck herself favored me and I was going to meet an old college friend and sure enough, there would be a pool there as well. I do not own a pool, so Me: 1, Universe: 0.

There I was in the heated pool, telling my friend about the afternoon plans, and he shrugged them off. What was his problem? That jerk totally takes for granted that he owns a pool and here I am happy to see two in one day. Then he looked to me and said, "going swimming just isn't a treat for me".

My god. It turns out I'm the jerk. He wasn't taking anything for granted, I was just pinning a label on him so that I could feel better about what I didn't have. This is not to say that there aren't those in the world, and there are, who will lord their things over you like a badge, its just saying that some done mean it. I personally wont change my life with this revelation, but I think I can cut some people a break. Not my friend though, I mean TWO pools in ONE day!

The true super food...

This one time, I had a craving. No, I wasn't pregnant, but I couldn't help myself. I could barely consider having a sandwich without first pulling out the large jar that I get from my grandfather. They are just so tasty; salty, full of flavor, and a mouth watering spice. I guess I should just admit it; my name is Geoff and I'm addicted to pickles.

As I said, its my grandfathers fault. He buys 5 gallon buckets of pickles from an Italian market, sorts them into jars that he has and tops them off with pickled cherry peppers. The result is one of the finest dining experience that you could ever have from a jar.

This is what was on my mind when we were almost empty in one of our jars, and a fine dinner idea came to me. I had heard a rumor that a restaurant chain, lets just refer to them as C-fil-A, gets their signature chicken sandwich by first marinating them in pickle juice. This would explain why when you order a sandwich from them, it is only topped with pickles unless otherwise requested.

So there I was with a jar of juice and some chicken breast. Why not? I cut the breasts thin and covered them in pickle juice. For those that don't know how a brine works, it is as follows:

1. Meat is placed in a seasoned liquid that is very salty.
2. The salt enters and seasons the meat
3. The added salt causes the meat to swell with extra juice, making the cooked product more juicy.

Eureka! obviously pickle juice is just a celebrated brine! This makes things interesting. I move the meat from it's container, to beaten egg, to seasoned flower, back to egg, then to bread crumbs, I finish the prep work for my sandwiches. Fyi, the double breading makes a difference, more crunch and the breading will stick to the meat better. I fry them to a dark brown, not burnt, because I love the crunch, then I move to the sandwich. I take the very pickles who's juices made this meal possible and line a hearty roll.

I love fried chicken, but I have never had an experience like this. The meat was juicy, spicy, and flavorful. The pickles had their usual kick, making the whole sandwich pop. All in all, I would say that is was, by sandwich standards, Too Fine. So go, take with you a proven restaurant secret and next time you want to surprise someone, brine the meat and double bread. I know Ill love it and you'll look like a miracle worker.

True Heirlooms...

Unfortunately, I have lost a great Uncle. I barely knew him, but in times like these, you always wish you had spoken to them more, or gotten to know them. It was an accident which, so tragically, ended his ripe life at 79, so who knows how much longer he would have lasted.

As I sit and think about him, my mind keeps going back to his stuff. Things. Property of his which is now being handed out, according to his wishes, as keepsakes and heirlooms. I sit and watch the silver and china being sent to nieces across the country, help to move large pieces of furniture, and even box up the small knick knacks of a life lived and cant help but wonder what to me is most important.

Many people have the fortune of one of the most important heirlooms and don't realize it. I'm talking about something that is as valuable as any fancy cabinet, I'm speaking about recipes. paper evidence of your ancestors nourishment and prosperity.

It is something which is more important in some families than others, but the family tradition of cooking is passed down. Ever wonder why, as you sit in a murky funk at your school cafeteria, why they cant seem to make mashed potatoes like your mom? That's your history your comparing to. Your mom is not a magic woman, but she is the keeper of knowledge which you should seek out.

I write this post at home with a dreamy scent filling the air. When I inhale deeply, I can smell the tradition of my family on my dad's side, my child hood, my adolescents, and my future all at the same time. To the casual onlooker or guest, it is just a pot of tomato sauce (they, of course, think theirs is better) but to me its so much more than that. That is MY tomato sauce, and when I have kids, it will be theirs.

I dont want to fight with my brothers over the possessions of other peoples lives. I don't want to be eating off a table hundreds of years old, with silver, handed down generations, trying to remember how my mother made her poppy seed dumplings which I love so much over chicken. I want to receive phone calls from my kids one day saying how they miss my cooking and cant wait to be home, like my mother had from me.

My mission to you: You know that simple side dish you had growing up? That rice, noodle, potato, or soup that you loved so much? Get that recipe and make it this week.