crowjonah » Food

Get Money, Cook Meals

crowjonah — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 04:10:10 +0000

You guys, all I do anymore is eat. And it's great. Observe:

Caiti lovingly gashed at some wieners to identify whose they were and also to pressure me into eating three, which I did effortlessly. Let it be known that I don't mess around with food.

Caiti and Arune invested in a monstrous pot for the express purpose of making hot wings. While we were on edge for the entire frying process in fear of burning down the house in a grease fire, our worries were allayed and our efforts were rewarded. I don't claim to compete with the King and Queen of Wingdom, but after having conveyed my intention of stopping after my tenth wing, Monica rallied their highnesses and persuaded me to make it a bakers dozen. In spite of being the largest person present, I still wound up eating the least, but 13 wings ain't no joke. Quality over quantity? Not everything's a competition? I don't know.

I continued my cream-heavy lifestyle with my own rendition of Shepherd's Pie. No lamb, just beef, corn, potatoes, and perfection. Thanks for the recipe, moms! Fear not, parents, vegetarians, and other health-conscious peoples, I'm actually eating quite well. On second thought, sorry veggieheads; I have no comforting words for you.

Master Chef Arune has kept our nostrils stimulated on many occasions, most recently with a delicious Indian dish he called "Butter Chicken." Don't let the modest name fool you, that stuff's got mad flavors. In my opinion we oughtta just skip the whole inadequate, ambiguous translation thing and call it by its right name, which, if I am correct, is Makhani Chicken. Scrumptious. Just to round things out, here's a final picture of our ingenious method for covering an enormous amount of rice, which, according to my books, is a staple that Monica has practically mastered:

Stay tuned for more adventures of Crow And His Growing Belly! I'll also warn you that I'm holding out on you with some adorable bunny pictures. Gandalf is the man.

I Can’t Seem to Escape the Cream

crowjonah — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 22:00:23 +0000

After moving in to the new neighborhood and doing a bit of self-orientation, I, along with my roommates, were very impressed by a banner on the side of the creamery down the block boasting over twenty flavors of soft serve ice cream. Clearly a priority, we checked it out, half expecting an entire wall of spigots, each devoted to its own bizarre flavor. It turns out they've only got vanilla and chocolate spouts just like everybody else, but with a syrup infusing stage of post production. I went for peach, Caiti got the classic twirl, Monica went for some regular ol cookie dough, and Arune had black cherry.

It was both cheap and delicious which is both good and bad news for my tummy. Up next on the tour of local establishments: the pizza place and a BBQ joint! (If there were a suitable alternative to convey my sentiments right now I would utilize it, but the only thing that seems to be able to sum it up is NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.) Also, C.R.E.A.M.

Parody/Homage/Carbonara

crowjonah — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 21:31:27 +0000

Blog post à la Robo et Murs.

This dish is a culinary secret handed down from the legendary Sean Conroy by way of my mother.

Ingredients:

One whole pound of the most versatile player of all meats, Bacon. (You guys, it's good on everything. Take something taste - pepperoni pizza, for example - and add bacon and all of a sudden you've got heaven in a slice.)
An arbitrary bunch of asparagus. I'm hard pressed to say just how much. It's admittedly a concession to appease some people who are unhappy with an otherwise perfect and healthy meal. Truth be told, though, well cooked asparagus rounds out the pasta just right. I'd say about 7-10 individual asparagi, and if you're desperate you're certainly allowed to substitute other veggies. I hear green beans do the trick.
1 pint whipping cream
2 eggs
Enough penne to fill your largest pot
Parmesan cheese

Steps

Begin to boil water to cook the pasta. Do not forget this crucial step, because if you're stuck leaving the sauce on the heat it'll get thick. Far from being the end of the world, all that is needed in this case is to add a bit of milk at the end.
Get your biggest, most serratedest knife and saw the hunk of bacon into little bits. I'd say 1/2" should be sufficient, as shrinkage is common in the process of maximum flavor potential fulfillment. Fry the product of this labor and try not to gobble the whole pan down as the sensual scent permeates your kitchen.
Chop the asparagus into pieces no larger than would comfortably fit in your mouth accompanied by a few noodles. If necessary, measure your mouth and subtract a couple of centimeters.
Turn down the bacon heat to somewhere around medium and carefully pour the entire pint of whipping cream straight into the pan. Don't you dare be tempted to sacrifice a single oz. of that grease. You need it all.
Add two egg yolks, (none of that white stuff,) and whisk as you do so.
Stir it up, add asparagus, and make sure it doesn't bubble too much. I'm not sure if the phrase is appropriate in this situation, but cook the asparagus al dente.
Strain yo noodles, place them back in their pot, and pour the entire contents of the bacony, asparagusy, creamy, greasy pan over the noodles. Mix well.

This should serve around 6 people, or 4 people who happen to want leftovers for a few days. This most recent batch was my sustenance for three consecutive excellent meals. Since eating food is really just the rational individual's excuse to drink Coke, don't forget to crack one open.