Rosemary baked chicken, and I didn't make it.

So we decided to have a late dinner the other day of roasted chicken with rosemary and some beans with lardons and herbs. I handled the beans, and my wife took care of the chicken. She cleaned it, she stuffed it, she baked, basted, the works. I gotta say, after roasting a few birds of my own, she's a better touch at it. It was tasty beyond words. The breast meat was still tender and moist, the skin was perfectly crackly, and rich fragrant rosemary and aromatics just filled every bite. So just as a word of warning, the next poultry served up as a roast is probably not my handiwork!


She also made peanut butter cookies this weekend but, alas, that is another tale to be told!

One year anniversary...and a little something extra

Title says it all. My wife and I celebrated our first year of marriage tonight. Nothing big, nothing fancy. We didn't go out to eat or do a super-crazy multi-course meal. I told her I loved her, she told me she loved me, and we had a little meal. She, of course, got her lobster, which she insists on cooking herself. I made a meal of fresh figs, prosciutto di parma, spanish manchego cheese, and balsamic vinegar.


You might ask why the low key first anniversary? Well, we're both saving up like mad and getting ready to buy a house. In fact, we'll be closing on it within the next few weeks. That's one heck of an anniversary present to and from the both of us. I won't diverge from the scope of this blog though, and I'm sure you're already wondering what the kitchen is like. Here's an appetizer or two:


Oh yeah, the rest of the house is nice too ;-)

So, wish us luck. There's been a reason I haven't been blogging much lately after all! Hopefully the work will pay off and you'll be seeing pictures from a much larger, well-lit, and all around nicer venue in the very near future.

Remember kids: sodium alginate + calcium chloride = "caviar"

So, as a really cool part of my chairman's award prize in the ICSA southern food contest, I got a baggie of a weird cream-colored powder called "sodium alginate" and another baggie of a grainy white stuff called "calcium chloride". Concerned that somebody maybe sent me drugs, a bomb, or terrible terrible poison, I mashed the internets for a minute or two, and suddenly realized what pure awesome I had received.

The two chemicals can be used to make foods with a texture almost exactly emulating caviar. I'm not a scientist, so don't grill me too hard on the science of it. You make a juice out of "something" and add a little of the sodium alginate to that to gel it up and make it a little thick. Then you put that in a syringe. In a water bath, you add calcium chlorate, then slowly drip in your juice mixture. The drops set immediately upon hitting water, and the reaction of the alginate and chloride start to create a skin that holds the liquid inside. You then let it sit for a good 30-60 seconds, fish out the pearls of caviar with a skimmer, and immerse in another water bath to stop the chemical reaction.



The power and potential for this stuff is huge. Vegan caviar with truffle oil would be pure evil, but I'm wanting to get a can of concentrate orange juice to make fruit caviar, top that on a cloud of whipped cream, and put that on a vanilla cookie or something to make a weird dreamsicle flavored thing.

Tacos de Lengua

I've got a thing for tacos, you see.

No, not Taco Bell. Mind you, it's a fantastic inebriation stop-gap or hangover cure, but it's marginally food. A giant curved yellow tortilla chip, loose hamburger meat mixed with MSG and "tomato flavor" with bland lettuce and plastic cheese. What can you expect for a few cents at a place that's considered bargain basement by the American Tex Mex industry, I guess.

No, not that sort of taco. Not even a good Tex Mex taco. You see, I just refuse to believe Tex Mex as a genre has any business making them. Burritos? Enchiladas? Tex Mex does these well, and I love em. Tacos are just one of those things that are best done with a more Mexican flair.

Tacos should be greasy, hotter than hell fire, and full of bracing flavors. Lettuce BAD. Cilantro GOOD. Cheese BAD. Guacamole GOOD. Refried beans BAD. Raw onions or radishes GOOD.

It's just a different style, and I realize people do like Tex Mex tacos. I'm just not that guy.

I left for work today, but before I went out the door, I switched my crock pot on and dropped in a big beef tongue, and cracked open a can of chipotle peppers and adobo sauce. Set those to a low braise while I went off to work. There it remained for eight hours until my wife came home to baby-sit it. I came home with groceries a while later. The beef tongue has a membrane on the outside of it, so we removed that and shredded the meat. I then chopped a few cow-horn chilis from my garden to toss in there too. Took some corn tortillas, charred them slightly on the cast iron skillet, then ladled the meat and chipotle mixture onto each tortilla. Chopped cilantro, a little onion, and sliced up a lime, and food was created.


Beef tongue is really great stuff, if you're adventurous enough to try offal. It braises like pork, which is to say that you have beautifully delicate meat that shreds easily, but the flavor is still robust and beefy like a good roast. The smoke in the chipotle and adobo pairs to that very well, and even strong flavors like cilantro and raw onion don't crowd it out. The acid in the lime cuts the greasiness a bit, which is good.

I gotta admit that I was breathing fire during this. Nose running, big smile on my face, with adobo sauce dripping off my chin. The only thing I could've used was a cerveza, or maybe a glass of cool coconut water or agave juice. As it stands I had a big bottle of water, and I drank it all.

Definitely give this one a try, especially if all you have to define a taco is what you've seen on the Late Night menu.

Beer reviews, round two

Hey guys, sorry its been a while. Was going to try and make the beer review thing a bi-weekly thing, but I just don't drink enough beer for that, lol. Still, figure we should have some beer reviews, whenever I get around to drinking some, that is!

Samuel Smith's Imperial Stout:


Poured from 12 ounce bottle into pint glass

Appearance: Opaque Ebony with thick tan head over 1". Head recedes quickly with little to no lacing on the glass.

Smell: Dark chocolate, tea, small scent of tropical fruit.

Taste: deeply toasty malt, butterscotch, cola, and a little coffee. Finishes with acidity.

Mouthfeel: Medium-heavy, carbonation very weak.

Smells great, but the taste is kind of unremarkable. For the money, there are better Imperial Stouts available to be had. It would go well with something with dark chocolate. For some reason, I seemed to like this more at Brewfest, but when I settled down and took a whole glass slowly, it didn't really shine through :(

Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier:


Poured from 12 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Cloudy amber. Head a creamy white, 1". Receded with no lacing.

Smell: Blackberries all over the place. There's nothing else at all.

Taste: Berries immediately, melting into a nondescript malt, petering off after swallowing.

Mouthfeel: Light weight, light carbonation. Pretty average Hefeweizen feel.

I really am not impressed by this. It comes on way too strong with blackberries, and there's nothing else expressed in the character. Even then, you'd think they'd be kind enough to finish astringent or with some acidity or both. Blackberries do that, so why not this beer? Instead, it sort of loses its flavor after the swallow, almost like the taste going out of a piece of gum. Avoid this beer, it's not good. If you're gung ho for a fruit essence beer, you can do a lot better.

Duvel Belgian Ale:


Poured from 11.2 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Very pale blonde color and clear. Beautiful bubbles constantly rise throughout. Head is over 1.5", creamy and frothy white. The head recedes gently, leaving heavy lacing on the glass.

Smell: Champagne grapes and alcohol esters

Taste: Dry champagne immediately on hitting the tongue, then releases a bouquet of perfumed, but not obnoxious hops. Hints of apple and buttery malts upon swallowing, but cleaned up immediately by the hops, leaving a completely cleansed palate.

Mouthfeel: This is where Duvel leaves most beers in the dust. It completely transforms upon hitting your tongue, to the point where you're not sure which part is liquid and which part is foamy deliciousness. So much of the flavor develops in the rich carbonation that you really should drink it in a glass that's good at preserving those bubbles. Once they're depleted, the mouthfeel, and therefore, the taste change. The way that the liquid transmutes into airy foam also has a way of deceiving your tongue into thinking it's a vastly lighter beer than it is. One of the best mouthfeel experiences I've had.

It's a good clean, dry beer with outstanding carbonation and very light weight. I'd be partial to having this with some delicate seafood or anything with simple and seasonal vegetables. To give it a wine analog, I'd think that anything you could drink an Alsacian Riesling with, you could also drink with Duvel. Fantastic beer.

He'Brew Messiah Bold American Brown Ale:


Poured from 12 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Opaque dark chocolate body. Head about 1", almond colored. Recedes quickly with little lace.

Smell: A little cherry, vanilla, cola, and oak. Overall muted.

Taste: Deep toastiness, chestnuts, oak. Hops roll to the back of the tongue and it finishes bitter, with some lingering aftertaste.

Mouthfeel: Medium body, light carbonation. Pretty average compared to other brown ales.

It's a bit earthier than average brown ales, and really doesn't express much caramel or malt, letting the hops at the end do the talking. If you're looking for a really well-made brown it's probably not it, but it's not disagreeable either, and is easily drinkable. I'd pair it with maybe some roast beef or sausage, something with a bit of heft to it. Would do alright with barbecue, and let the hops clean up any sweetness in the sauce.

Tommyknocker Imperial Nut Brown Ale:


Poured from 12 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Nearly opaque, deep chocolate body. Head over 1", well tanned. Heavy lacing retained on the glass as it slowly recedes.

Smell: Butter, a little woodsmoke, cherries, some esters

Taste: Starts toasty initially with good nutty flavor, then becomes incredibly rich, with butter and maple taste coming through and dominating the malt. No presence of hops, just persistent richness. Finishes as it begins on toasted malts, with a lingering crusty bread taste on the tongue. Doesn't fully get rid of the sweet maple, and it mingles and gets a little cloying, with a little acidity.

Mouthfeel: Gentle carbonation, milky weight. Sticks to the tongue after swallowing. Typical of the style to a large degree.

It's completely lacking in subtlety so it's probably not the brown ale you pick if you want a magic carpet ride. Still I can't help liking it. It's heavy handed, juvenile, boistrous, and delicious. I'd totally want this with dessert. A pecan pie ala mode or maybe ice cream with dulce de leche, see where I'm going? The coup de grace would be flapjacks, but that's obvious when you taste it and it feels like you're kissing Mrs. Butterworth. If you want a better crafted brown, Lazy Magnolia's Southern Pecan or Rogue's Hazelnut Brown Nectar are better quality, but for some reason this is just as fun.

Anchor Breweries Old Foghorn Barleywine Ale:


Poured from 12 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Deep ruby, translucent body. Head over 1", creamy, off white. Receded gradually with very slight lace.

Smell: Fragrant hops, oak, alcohol esters, orange zest

Taste: Citrus fruits at first, scented with coriander and lavender. Hops are persistent from beginning to end, very fragrant, but never dominating. Doesn't quite end clean, acidity lingers a little after swallowing.

Mouthfeel: Gentle carbonation, and a little more heft than the light flavors would suggest.

First barley wine I've had, and if this is typical of them, I hope I have more! Hops complement the citrus, which is tough for some beers to do. Hops either come up way too strong in most, or are dull and get washed out. There's no bumps on the road, so you get to enjoy both of them. I'd love to grill up some fish like maybe salmon and have it with this one. I bet a good baked chicken or turkey with some fresh green beans or spring veggies would be great.

Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock:


Poured from 11.2 ounce bottle into pint glass:

Appearance: Nearly opaque mahogany with a nearly 2" head of chestnut foam. Receded gradually with almost no lace.

Smell: Cocoa, cherries, tobacco

Taste: Very rich toasted malts, creamy chocolate sweetness. Finishes with a wash of smoky flavor and lingers a while on the tongue.

Mouthfeel: Rich and milky. Carbonation is very gentle and doesn't disrupt the comforting flavor.

Certainly the best bock I've tasted so far. It's a very rich and filling beer, but one that's easy to please. If you could make room for it, it would probably pair a bowl of chili or even gumbo and taste fantastic.

Hommous

We went to our little July 4 shindig this weekend, and among a few other things my wife and I brought was a big bowl of hommous. Everyone in attendance enjoyed it, and I'm glad they did. What kind of dismayed me is that there's a mystery to hommous at all. There really shouldn't be.

Hommous is just a blend of chicpeas and a liquid, with things added for salt, savory, acidity, etc to your liking. You can make it as simple or complicated as you want it to be, but the generic stuff is really simple. Making a batch to serve four hungry mouths is as easy as:

• 1 14 ounce can of cooked chicpeas (with liquid*)
  
• 2 cloves garlic
• 2 tbsp tahini (sesame seed paste, available in most grocery stores now)
  
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 1/2 juiced lemon or lime
• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil (for topping)
• 1/2 tsp hot paprika (for topping)

That's about it for generic hommous. You combine everything except the oil and paprika in a food processor, pulverize the hell out of it for about five minutes, pour into a bowl (and get to lick the food processor bowl!) and top with oil and paprika. Refrigeration is optional before serving, but I like mine cold.

That's it. Takes less than ten minutes, so it's one of the laziest food items you can crank out. It's perfect for when you're having company on short notice.

Now, I do take a few liberties with mine that you may or may not include. I add an extra garlic clove to satisfy my rapacious half-Sicilian counterpart, as well as a half teaspoon of cayenne pepper because I have a dependence on at least a little spiciness. Instead of generic kosher salt, I'll use smoked salts like a hickory salt, and instead of the lemon or lime juice, I'll use a half teaspoon of citric acid granules. Don't worry about either if you can't find them because they're not essential at all. Smoked salts do just what you'd imagine, they impart a little smoky flavor into your food. Citric acid is essentially the "sour salt" on some candies you find. It's the crystalized acidic stuff from citrus fruits. Great for when you want to pucker your food up, but don't want it to taste like a lemon or a lime, and don't want to add more liquid.

Some people have a huge problem using the "bean water" in a can of chicpeas or whatever. The old aspersion is that the stuff makes you fart. I've conducted rigorous scientific experiments involving wind tunnels and coal mine canaries and this is inconclusive. In my gastronomic opinion its not true, and using the bean water improves the flavor, but if you're fearful of becoming a fanny flute and don't have any beano handy, just rinse the chicpeas, return them to the can, and top the can off with water and use that.

Some people also like to cut their hommous with olive oil when in the food processor. I think it's completely unnecessary but if you want to enrich yours beyond the pale then try it a little at a time.

The paprika and olive oil on top are likewise just tradition. You can cut the oil out entirely and you'll still have a tasty dish, and the paprika can be substituted with all manner of things. Some of my favorite toppings are pine nuts, olives, roasted red peppers, dill, roasted pecans, pickles, pepperoncini, etc. The topping is a good opportunity to tie the hommous into whatever flavors you have going for the rest of your meal, so go wild with that.

I used to buy hommous from restaurants and grocery stores. I mean, the Sabra brand stuff that's ever-present these days IS really tasty hommous, but look at what you pay for the stuff. Now, turn around and look how cheap it is to make your own. A can of chicpeas is about 75 cents. You use scant garlic, oil, salt, etc. A lemon is a few cents. If you go the route of using citric acid, you can buy a jar for five dollars that will be more than enough to make hommous for the rest of your life. With tahini, you make a seven dollar investment for a jar that will make a dozen batches, if not many more.

So let's err on the high side and say your hommous costs $2.00 per batch. That feeds four people. A dish of Sabra costs about twice that, and feeds half the number of people. You're out a total of two bucks and ten minutes of your time.

CSA delivery two and other veggie ramblings.

Thursday's back again, and I got a huge shipment of CSA produce from Grow Alabama once more. Loads of squash, pole beans, bell peppers, another titanic head of napa cabbage, some nice big tomatoes, a big bag of new potatoes, and a double batch of Chilton county peaches. On top of that, my wife's friends gave us a two bags filled with some pretty squashes and cucumbers. I came home with everything put away, and my better half asleep on the couch. She's an angel :-)

Along with my CSA shipment, I tacked on some extra chevre goat cheese and yellow polenta, Not sure where the chevre's from, but the polenta's from Wilsonville, just a hop skip and jump down the way.

My mission this week is to make egg rolls, and also to think of every possible way I can eat and enjoy squash.

On other news, figs should be coming into season any day now in Alabama. When they do, I gotta act fast. Like strawberries, they survive at their best for maybe a day. Fragile, but worth it.

"Why don't you cook for a living???"

Invariably, I get asked this question by a lot of my friends and family. It's a completely understandable question to ask. In our modern age when being a cook is less about being the humble abode for rejects and society's dregs and more about some weird pseudo-art pseudo-celebrity thing that I don't quite understand, people generally see becoming a cook for a living as being a good pursuit to have. Fair to say, I'm sure it's great for people who choose it, but I never will.

This is the part where you're probably asking "why?" so here's the why:

Cooking is art. I'm standing behind that completely. Not in some snobby, exclusive haute cuisine way necessarily, but in a way where somebody makes an expression of themselves, whether it's their own history and roots, their own beliefs and ideals, and the broad canvas of imagination, and then sacrifice it on an altar that is somebody else's plate, vulnerable to praise and critique, or even indifference. It's the only art form that stimulates all five of your senses, and it's artwork that is fleeting, sometimes only able to exist in it's perfect state for minutes, maybe even seconds. Because it draws so heavily on creativity, it taps the muse, and it takes a lot of inspiration to continue to make something that you take enough pride in to present to another person.

With that said, cooking is also a service job. In a comical paradox you're taking something that is such an intimate medium of expression and also asking it to be a means of grinding out sustenance to whoever comes through your door and puts down folding cash. While I think there's some degree of give and take that must exist in any place that makes a living out of cooking, I don't think either side can adequately be satisfied. You truly can't serve two masters.

If somebody comes to a museum to see a painting, they're all viewing the same painting. If somebody comes into a restaurant and points to the same thing on the menu, they each get technically the same meal, just made dozens of times over, one of which just happens to get served to them. That's when people get all Catherine de Medici and start treating their cooks like a harried artisan.

Look, I've got no problem with respecting your weird food preferences if I like you. I've got lots of friends and family who all have some silly quirks about how they eat their food. Food is an expression of love, so why not pan fry plain pork tenderloin, or make those pancakes with peanut butter if I enjoy your company? I may not eat that crap, but maybe my wife does, or my dad, or my best friend. Come to my house and I'll feed you. I would hope that you'd take my roasted spanish pimiento hommous before eating a crustless PB&J, but if you're good people, you're good people.

It's when we're talking about a professional environment that I bristle. I don't know these people, I don't have any experience with them. I'm making items on a menu not to individual expressions of affection, but purely as an aesthetic representation of my own creativity. In that regard, it is caveat emptor, or let the buyer beware. If you're not not noshing at McDonalds or Applebees, or as Anthony Bourdain lovingly calls the collective mass of soulless slop-slingers "TGIMcFunster's", you know that you're going to eat something that isn't just portions of salt, fat, and sugar with other ingredients*.

So when I hear of people going to a decent restaurant, ordering something, then sending it back because "the vegetables are touching" or "I don't want any sauce on my mass of carbohydrates" or "I'm not a celiac but I'd better not have one molecule of wheat gluten in anything because Oprah told me that avoiding gluten would align my chakra points and I'd become a Super Saiyan" it makes me want to slap them in the face. It doesn't even have to be food that I made. If I hear somebody I'm with, or adjacent to doing this, it makes me furious. I may not say anything in public due to decorum, but you'd better believe that my inner monologue is calling you a jackass as hard as it possibly can.

You've got a menu in your hand. It says what the dish is. It says what's in the dish. If you read-ey no english-ey, maybe you speak-ey it, and your very knowledgable waiter can answer questions. "What is sous vide?" "Is Steak Tartare really raw hamburger meat??" "I'm allergic to rabbit turds, will this kill me?" Unless you're a cheap bastard you are tipping your wait staff, so here's a great way to let them earn their money. ASK QUESTIONS if you're such a picky ninny. If you don't like the answers? Eat somewhere else. You're not going to be happy if you do, and the cook won't be able to make something to at his or her best.

How could I expect to cook food that I can pridefully stand behind as a professional and yet suffer these indignations? Quite frankly, I can't, and I won't. That's precisely why I will never subject myself to playing that game. The only way I'd ever open a proprietorship to cook in is if I won the lottery and could afford to run a business that lost money hand over fist, just because it gave me an outlet to cook for fun. In that case, I'd hang a large banner inside in plain sight of the clientele:

"If our food does not meet with your discerning tastes, your own damn kitchen is thataway!"

Onion Soup

Sometimes, the simplest things to make taste the best. Onion soup, of the style made famous in the Les Halles market of 19th century France is one of those things. An onion, sweated for an hour or two until its a carmelized mush, deglazed with a dollop of sherry, then beef stock and a little pepper. Cut a thick chunk of good bread, dry it to make a crouton, shave some aged Grüyere on top, then rest the cheesy crouton in the soup bowl, and put the entire thing under the broiler for a couple of minutes.

It's cheap, takes little effort to make, and it's pure bliss.

Ma La

It's a term in Chinese, meaning "numbing". In food terms, it's the effect on your tongue when you eat a food with enough Szechwan peppercorns in it.

I've been looking for the little guys for a while. It was one of my many food geek projects that I sort of bury into a little composition book that I tote around. An idea here, an idea there. I may not be thinking about anything in particular but I'll just put it on paper, and maybe it'll turn up when I least expect it. It's a great little part of my creative process, because otherwise I just couldn't be bothered to keep up.

At any rate, I finally crossed it off my list a week ago during an extended shopping trip to Whole Foods in Birmingham. Just happened to remember it and be looking in the right place at the right time. Boom, Szechwan peppercorns. What did I do when I bought them? Immediately tore open the little safety seal and popped about five in my mouth and chewed. At first, a little lemony taste. Then...

Numbing really isn't quite what I'd call it. More like buzzing. The closest analogy I can think of is if you take a nine volt battery, and touch your tongue to both tips. The little bit of electricity going into your tongue gives it a weird buzzy feeling. It's completely surreal.

At any rate, I knew I wanted to use the peppercorns (they're actually not peppercorns at all, but little dried flower things) in something, but wasn't exactly sure. When I got my recent CSA shipment, I figured out what I wanted to do. I wanted to make fried rice.

Now, I've blogged about fried rice before. It's damn frustrating stuff. Yes, you can make rice and fry it with things, but if you've ever had fried rice done correctly, you'll know that it's really hard to replicate the experience yourself. Japanese fried rice is just about as tricky as nuclear fusion, and I've kind of put my aspirations on hold of getting it down correctly. Then again, I don't know if what I put together would be considered Chinese, either. Suffice to say I will consider it Mutt-a-nese, or in the spirit of my great nation's storied history of cultural assimilation, "American".

Here's what I used for my fried rice:

• 2 cups rice, uncooked (I like jasmine, any long grain white would be fine, save for maybe basmati)
• 4 cups water
• oil for pan frying
• sesame seeds (black and white or whatever)
• 1 pound pork tenderloin, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 2 eggs
  
• 1/4 cup honey
• About 1/2 cup soy sauce
• 2 tbsp Sriracha or similar hot sauce
• 1 tbsp fish sauce (optional)
  
• 2 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1 tbsp szechwan peppercorns
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 1 tbsp ginger paste, or minced ginger
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed and finely minced
• 2 cups broccoli, roughly chopped
• 2 cups cabbage, chopped
• 1 cup pole beans, chopped
• 1 cup carrots, chopped

Begin by heating a tablespoon of oil in a sauce pot. Bring the heat nearly to high. Add some sesame seeds, then your rice. Stir it around. You want to get the oil evenly coated on all the rice grains. As they heat, they'll go from translucent to fully opaque white. I stop when I smell a little bit of toastiness from the rice. You can either add your water, bring to a boil, drop to low and cover for about 20 minutes, or do what I do and transfer it to a rice cooker and do it in there. Once cooked, take off heat, uncover, and let cool a little, fluffing periodically to release heat.

With that going, combine your pork, honey, and 1/4 cup of soy sauce. Oil a fry pan a bit and turn to medium high. Pour your pork into the pan, and let it cook. You want to keep it on the heat and let the water cook out of it. The cooking liquid will reduce, thicken, then finally turn to a syrup and start binding to the pork pieces. When the pan is starting to get dry, add your red chili flakes and szechwan peppercorns. When the pork looks crispy and dry, take it off the heat and reserve.

Oil a non-stick fry pan lightly, just to cover, and scramble a pair of eggs. Rather than scrambling first and pouring into the pan, crack the eggs directly into the pan, let them start to set for about 30 seconds, then smash them up. When done, take off heat and reserve.

Whisk together sugar, remaining soy, ginger, fish sauce, sriracha and garlic. Set aside.

Get a wok or at least a five quart saute pan. Add a couple of tablespoons of oil, and get it to nearly high heat. Drop in your carrots, cook about 5 minutes, then cabbage. Cook five minutes longer, then add pole beans for another five minutes, and at last your broccoli and eggs. Stir constantly, then add your rice, and your sugar/soy/ginger/etc mixture. You've got to move like your butt is on fire, or else your rice will be! Well maybe not on fire, but you might burn the rice or veg or both if you don't keep the contents of the pan in motion.

When you're nearly done, add the pork, toss thoroughly then immediately remove from the heat.


It's not really that photogenic, but it's more than a meal, that's for sure. Be warned, the ma la sensation isn't really for everybody. I love it, but other people don't care for it. My wife ate it, but said that she'd like it without the peppercorns next time. Either way, it's something you should try once, and even if you think its not for you, this fried rice is pretty solid for a mutt concoction.