Mincing shallots, not words.

OK, so it’s probably not a surprise to anyone that I hate salad. I mean, anything that has lettuce as a base is pretty lame, yah? But recently, I had this salad that was not like salad at all and actually pretty damn good. And then I realized that salad can be tasty if you throw enough stuff in it. Like alot of stuff. But, I’m not talking salad that defeats the purpose of eating salad by topping it with fried chicken, cheddar cheese and a healthy bath of ranch dressing (although, I’m sure that’s delicious). The trick is to have all sorts of flavors and textures happening in your mouth so that your brain is tricked into forgetting that you’re eating salad. So I give you this salad for haters. Because I’m a hater. And I love this salad.

baby spinach
1-2 chicken breasts
hot sauce
1 box of couscous
craisins
pine nuts
1 small red onion
1 small butternut squash
olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Cut the chicken into small pieces and place in a bowl. Toss with a liberal amount of hot sauce and let it marinate while you prepare the rest of the salad ingredients. If you’re not into hot sauce, you can skip this step all together.

2. Peel and de-seed the butternut squash. The easiest way to do this is cut the squash right before the bulb, peeling both parts separately, and then split the bulb in half with a knife and scoop out the seeds. Cut the squash into equal, bite-sized pieces (it will roast faster this way and ensure even cooking).

3. Cut the red onion into 1/2 in. rings and separate. Put the squash and onions on a sheet pan in a single layer, toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, and roast for 15-20 minutes. Be sure to turn it all halfway through so it cooks on both sides.

4. While the veggies are roasting, prepare the couscous according to the box directions. I used the kind that only takes 5 minutes. Toast the pine nuts in a dry pan over a low flame, while remembering to occasionally shake the pan to prevent burning. Usually when they start smelling nutty, they will start to brown pretty quickly, so now would not be a good time to walk away.

5. Saute the chicken pieces in a little bit of olive oil until cooked all the way through. Set aside. If you choose to throw some more hot sauce on there, I won’t stop you.

6. By now, your veggies should be roasted. Stick a fork in the squash and if it goes in easy, you’re golden (that’s what she said).

7. Assembly time! Arrange your baby spinach on a plate, cover with some couscous, and then basically just throw everything else on there. I don’t think dressing is really necessary, but I did drizzle a bit of olive oil on top of the whole mess to moisten it up a bit. Seriously, you could douse this puppy in Trueblood and it would still probs taste delicious.

Haterade not included.

I know, I knowwww … May and June have come and gone with no updates to the site. Butttt, I did just make a sweet new Flickr page just for you. I’d like to say that I’ve been working on this for the past 2 months in explanation for my absence, but the truth is, I did it last night and it took me a couple of hours. Sigh. But! With this renewed sense of accomplishment, this Snarky Chef will march forward in bringing you some new content in July. Promise(/maybe).

In my defense, I have still been cooking up tasty snacks (Flickr page is photographic proof) so accompanying narrative is forthcoming. Like, this tasty marvel:

 
Yumyumyumm, twice baked potatoes

Check it:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thesnarkychef 

Orrr click on any of the thumbnails in the brand, spanking new handy widget to the left to the left … Try not to drool all over your keyboard.

Sooo, I got back from Montana awhile ago (yay).  But, when I uploaded photos off my cam to document my alcoholic brilliance, I came across some old grub pics from my time in prison Missoula.

Wanna see something gross?

There are no words.

Umm, yea.  So, if I recall correctly, this was a “pulled pork” sandwich.  To call this meat “pork” was fairly ambitious on their part considering it looked like a festering head wound and had the unpleasant consistency of Alpo brand dog food.  I give them credit for trying to salvage this mess by dousing it in BBQ sauce (always a good idea), but even with this (usually) cure-all condiment, I couldn’t get past the other 132 things that made this a nasty, unappetizing mess on Wonder bread.  I mean, just look at it.  And as if that picture weren’t depressing enough, please note my old keyboard in the background.  I had to shovel this crap down my gullet while sitting at my desk.

If I give this truck stop caterer credit for anything, it would be consistency.  They had the uncanny knack for making consistently god-awful food in various shades of purple.  Now, that takes talent.  Who cares what it tastes like as long as it’s PURPLEEEEE!!

Seriously?  Purple is the new FAIL.

This was Asian-style Sweet and Sour Purple Potatoes. I swear.  That’s what the sign said.  I would have taken a photo but I was so dejected/suicidal at this point, that each trip to the kitchen was like Dead Snarky Walking.  It didn’t help my mood any that it looked like Barney took a hot, steaming dump on my dinner plate. I should probs disclose that I didn’t actually taste this wondrously purple side dish.  But feedback from the brave few that did, indicated that the potatoes tasted “horrendous,” “too sour,” and “like poo.”

I’ve since eliminated all purple foods from my diet.

This is what happens when I get bored on a Tuesday.

Innocent pineapples are slaughtered.

At one of our fav local watering holes, they have this delicious pineapple infused vodka (also known by other monikers such as Bad Decisions Potion or Tropical Moonshine).  As the Pringles slogan goes, “once you pop, you can’t stop” and a night of drinking straight vodka (albeit delicious vodka) will no doubt have you groaning/vomiting/cursing yourself at work the next morning.  Not that I know from personal experience or anything.  Just sayin’.

Anyway, you know how after a couple of parties at your apartment, you find yourself the proud owner of 3-5 half empty bottles of cheap vodka?  Being the brilliant genius that I am, I decided to parlay these leftovers into a delicious experiment.

I cut up one whole pineapple, threw it in a clean jar and filled the rest with vodkavodkavodkaaaaa.  Not sure how long to let it sit, but I have a feeling I will catch my roommate drinking from the jar by tomorrow night.

Will let you know how it goes…

Droooooool.

For the second night in a row, I ate a BLT for dinner and stumbled upon this gem while surfing the web.  Scanwiches is a sweet website dedicated to scanning sandwich halves, which is totes brill.  I just wonder if creator, Jon Chonko, licks the scanning bed when he’s done or uses Windex.

PS Staring at sandwiches while you eat one is pretty meta, not to mention AWESOME.  I recommend trying it at your lunch hour.

One of my fav things to make as a quick snack is grilled cheese, but since they are rarely satisfying and I usually end up eating about 4 of them at once … I found myself searching for a similar alternative.  There are about a bazillion varieties of grilled cheese in all of international cuisine but one of the tastiest is obvs the yummy French version, croque-monsieur.  It is basically a ham and cheese sandwich topped with gooey cheese sauce.  BOOM! Amazing.

When I still lived in NY, I lived a couple doors down from this French bistro and I would always order these delivery because I’m a lazy fuck.  And they would ALWAYS make me repeat the address again as if to say “Seriously, fatty, really?  You live at 239?  You realize this is 249, right?” — this was always embarrassing but not as bad as when I would order sushi from the place downstairs and give the SAME address, and then just sigh and say “I know.  I live upstairs.”

I digress.  So anyway, the only thing that could make a croque-monsieur even BETTER is the addition of a runny egg on top, thus making it a croque-madame.  Wikipedia says that the name comes from the egg looking like a lady’s hat, but I think it’s because the egg looks like a boob.

• 2 slices of good bread (I’m obsessed with this olive-oil rosemary number from Harris Teeter)
• a couple of slices of good ham (I suggest Virginia or Black Forest, but no need to get fancy)
• a couple of slices of Gruyere (you can use another kind of cheese, but I wouldn’t - Gruyere is the BEST in this), shredded also works
• 1 egg
• a pat of butter
• salt and pepper to taste

[OK, so there are complicated ways to make this sandwich that involve making a bechamel cheese sauce for the top, but srsly this is just as good and is easy enough for even my most retarded friends (Hi, Raya!)  When I first tried making this sandwich, I would do it all on the griddle, but for some reason the cheese wouldn't get as melty as I would like, so I figured out this griddle-toaster oven combo that works like a charm.]

1. Melt the pat of butter in your pan, griddle, whatevs over medium high heat.  When it starts to bubble, add your 2 slices of bread and swirl them around a bit to make sure the butter really soaks in there good.  Wait for the bread to become crisp and golden (this usually takes anywhere between 2-4 minutes).  Flip ‘em over and crisp a little on the other side.  Really only one side of the bread has to look decent since the other side will be on the inside of the sandwich.  While this is going, put your toaster oven up to broil to warm up.

2.  Take one slice of the toasted bread, and put your ham and cheese on it.  Throw that junk under the broiler ’til its a nice bubbly, melty cheese magma.  At this point, if you wanna get really fat kid, you can throw the other slice of bread on there and then top the whole thing with more cheese.  Stick the whole thing under the broiler and wait for the cheese to get crusty and brown, but still cheesy.  (Clearly, I never fail to omit this step, but I ran out of cheese so the croque-madame in the photos has no cheese hat.)

3. While your oven’s doing it’s magic, now would be a good time to cook your egg.  I know eggs are scary for some, especially if you only ever do the scrambled thang, but seriously, it’s not that hard.  And it makes the sandwich so much more filling/delicious.  But if you wanna just stop at step 3, be my guest (chump).  Put your pan over lowish heat, and crack your egg into a separate bowl.  Once you get good at this, you can just crack them right in the pan, but … baby steps.

4.  Slide the egg carefully into the pan (don’t break the yolk, dummy).  Let it sit there ’til the white starts bubbling, THEN, throw a couple of tablespoons of water in there and cover the pan with a lid.  It’s fun to watch the water boil up and steam up the lid while the egg does a little dance.  Keep the lid on there for like 2 minutes.  When you lift it up, the yolk should be somewhat set, but def NOT pale.

5.  Now, bite the bullet, and flip that shit over.  It will be scary, and you will probs fuck it up, but eventually you will be able to flip it without feeling like you have gorilla hands.  If you use a big spatula and slide the egg all the way onto it, then tilt your pan upwards toward it, you will eliminate the space in which your egg has to free-ball thru the air.  This will up your odds of successful over-easy eggery.  Absolutely don’t try to flip it flapjack style, you monkey.

6.  If your yolk isn’t running all over the pan, then congrats!  Let it sit there for 30 seconds and then slide it on top of your hot sandwich.  Salt and pepper your masterpiece.  Prepare yourself for eggy, cheesy, hammy goodness.

Pardon my French, but this is a fucking good sandwich.

ZOMG, Happy Valentine’s Day!!  Instead of getting you chocolate/flowers/gonorrhea, I’m giving you this blog post.  Two in one week!  I hope I’m not spoiling you.  Clearly my job has a complete disregard for fake holidays/the weekend, and so I had to work … but I hope everyone else had a day filled with love/bitter angst.  I suspect all of the people who read this blog fall into the latter category.  But, good news!  Not only is dying alone no biggie, but catering was so festive today:

I have alot of feelings about this.

It’s purple?  Let’s all take a moment to think about what this could possibly be.  In the back there, we have a panini style sandwich.  It was chicken, pepperoni and pesto, which was good.  And by “good” I mean, it didn’t trigger my gag reflex.  I was able to choke down half a sandwich even though the pepperoni was a strange addition and didn’t taste particularly good.

If you are confused about the scary looking vegetable medley with the murky water in the forefront, join the club.  All natural instincts screamed “oOOoHHhh HELLLL NO” when I saw this bowl of purple goodness on the buffet table:

All signs point to NO.

OK, there are a few things I’d like to point out here.  First, that I had to take this photo using my cell phone –spy-style– because the eating cheerleaders were all lurking around.  I felt like such a creepster, but I had to get the signs.  Before they started stationing the “chefs” at mealtimes, they used handwritten signs like these to let us know what we were eating.  They haven’t busted out the signs in awhile, but I guess this was a special occassion.  ATTENTION!  THIS IS RED CABBAGE/RED ONION DRESSING!  NO ARTIFICIAL COLORS ADDED!!  Just in case you were worried that Barney had spooged his man juices into a bowl for consumption.

As if the purple goo weren’t confusing enough, but the bowl of shredded orange cheese and sunflower seeds (wtf is up with the overabundance of sunflower seeds in these lunches?) as added “condiments” really had me speechless.  Whyyy would anyone want to put any of these things on limp, overcooked frozen vegetables?  I mean, I know we are in the mountains but that can’t possibly explain the elimination of all fresh produce from my diet?

Needless to say, I tried it (60% out of sheer hunger and 40%, curiosity).  I can honestly say, I have never tasted anything like it.  It was creamy.  It was barfy.  It was gross.  The end.  I think the picture says it all.

BOOM. ROASTED.

Welp, folks.  I said I would update the site more, and it was an epic fail.  In my defense, it was one of my New Year’s resolutions.  I tried!  It’s the thought that counts, yah?

2009 has proven to be a pretty busy time for ‘ol Snarks.  My day job (I know it is shocking that nobody pays to read the crazy ramblings of a wannabe Zagat’s writer) has been bending me over, which leads me to a BRAND SPANKING NEW segment entitled: Road Rage aka OMFG Snarky Is Traveling For Work And Has To Eat The Most Awful Food Ever, Per Ushe.

Sooo, I’ve been working ’round the clock and so to save time, my job has decided to cater in EVERY MEAL to the office.  I’ve been eating it for a couple of days now, and realized fairly early on that what I have been eating has been SNARKY GOLD.  I mean, not only is this shit completely unrecognizable re its ingredients, but I have no idea what the “chef” is even remotely shooting for.  I frequently find myself asking “Is this chicken/shrimp/radioactive sludge/maggots?”  or “Why is there pineapple and toasted coconut in this (maybe?) chicken dish?”  I think the catering people noticed there were alot of questions being asked at meal times, so they now station 2 “chefs” (teenage punks in chef jackets) in the kitchen to tell us wtf we are eating.  Howevs, these 2 people just end up serving as eating cheerleaders, urging us along the buffet line with words of encouragement like “Give the pasta salad a try!” or “The sweet potatoes are to die for!” (they’re not kidding, that shit will kill you).

Ok, enough.  The food is the real star of this segment.  This is what I had for lunch today:

Your guess is as good as mine.

What is it, you ask?  Why, it’s a mayo-based broccoli & cauliflower salad with sunflower seeds and a bacon garnish, OBVS.  The best part of the way they served this “dish” was the GIANT bowl of bacon bits that was stationed next to it.  It’s like they were already anticipating my groan of protest and so tried to distract me with BACON.  It worked, sort of.  Until, I took a bite and it was SWEET.  Like coleslaw, except not.  It was barfy even when the garnish took up more than half the bite.  I’m sensing a catering theme where everything needs to be creamy and also look like vomit.  Which leads me to the Soup of the Day:

This is totes what Prison Mike was talking about.

This is apparently, chicken noodle soup?  Although it was more of a porridge consistency than soup, and didn’t contain anything remotely resembling edible chicken.  Also, the noodles?  I have no idea.  There are no words.  The pasta shapes in this state are unlike any I’ve ever seen before.  These noodles reminded me of the ends of lasagna, although not nearly as delicious and super mushy.  Mushy is like my least favorite thing to ever experience when dining.  This might come as a surprise, but the soup sucked.

I knew better than to look forward to dinner, but I was starting to feel faint from trying to subsist on nothing but string cheese and trail mix.  By the time it came out I had been working a full 12 hours and I was STARVING.  I set the bar low.  I prayed for sandwiches.  I prayed for a discernible protein.  I got this:

Holy clusterfuck, Batman.

As you can see, salad is starting to take up a majority of my plate.  I hate salad.  But, by now I’ve learned my lesson and without the roughage of salad in my belly, Snarky would die of starvation.  Clockwise around the plate: salad, Carribean jerk pork (whaaat?  really?), shrimp scampi (ha), gruel pesto pasta salad.  Obvs, the eating cheerleaders helped me spell it out because there is no effing way I would have known otherwise.  First of all, why would anyone in their right mind want to eat all of those things at once?  Like, how did they KNOW that I was totally craving tropical island-Italian fusion?  Genius.  The shrimp was in a weird cream sauce and just screamed food poisoning.  The pork I suspect didn’t actually come from a pig and was covered in orange marmalade.  I was banking on the pasta salad being edible.  The eating cheerleader told me it was his favorite food EVER!!!

What IS this, exactly?

The shape of the pasta scared me.  Do they not have regular pasta in Montana?!  Penne?  Bowties?  Bueller?  This pasta resembled globulous blobs of brain matter.  And it tasted like brains.  Like maybe I was eating my own brain because who in their right fucking mind would be eating this shit??

I ended up going back for seconds.  Of salad.  FML.

So I was planning on writing about this a long time ago, but I’ve been slacking with updating this blog.  Back in September (yes, I realize it is now November), me and 2 friends went to check out the H Street Festival.  There were street vendors selling everything from BBQ ribs to Barack the House t-shirts.  We also got to hear some music and see a dance troupe perform, but the highlight of our jaunt to NE was lunch at the gastropub, Granville Moore’s.  Located at 1238 H St. NE, this place is easy to miss but was recently featured on an episode of Bobby Flay’s Throwdown which is the only reason I recognized the name when we passed it.  I don’t venture out of my NW quadrant very often (mainly due to laziness) but I have been to the Rock and Roll Hotel so H St. looked at least vaguely familiar.

With it’s exposed beams and ancient brick walls, G-Moore’s isn’t one of those trendy gastropubs with shi-shi food and overpriced beer.  The dark wood bar stretches across half the restaurant with rustic wooden tables available for diners that want table service.  The menu offerings concentrate heavily on Belgian favorites (moules, frites, steaks) mixed with standard pub food like burgers and sandwiches.

Per ushe, the star of the show was the frites.  Double fried, crispy, salty perfection … these fancy french fries had just the right combo of sea salt and fresh herbs.  Coupled with any one of their six house dipping sauces, these frites are miles above any craptastic fast food offerings.  I think some of the sauces might be seasonal flavors, since I don’t see the delicious pesto mayo we tried on the menu anymore.  I had the fromage bleu moules (mussels with bleu cheese and bacon in a white wine sauce) and my friend had the chicken sandwich with goat cheese.  The mussels were juicy and flavorful, with the bleu cheese and bacon pairing nicely with the briny mussels and slightly acidic white wine broth.  My only complaint was that the bacon was slightly rubbery and not very appetizing.  I know that is shocking considering my intense love for bacon, but for some reason Granville Moore’s bacon just wasn’t doing it for me.  I took a bite of the chicken sandwich and the crispy breading was a nice compliment to the creamy tang of the goat cheese.

As far as the bevvies go, G-Moore’s has a pretty extensive beer selection with it’s chalkboard displaying over 60 different varieties by the bottle and 4 on draft.  It would be a great place for Happy Hour, and I hear on Mondays that the moules frites are half price.  AND if that isn’t enough to get your ass down to NE, located a couple of doors down from Granville Moore’s is The Palace of Wonders aka The Most Random Effing Bar/Carnival/House of Horrors Ever.

At the PoW, not only can you enjoy a drink at the bar, but for no extra charge you can wander upstairs and see some of the world’s “wonders.”  Behold, the world’s last known living unicorn in all of it’s taxidermied glory:

Wheee! I just escaped from Hogwarts.

Or a shrunken headed scary sea creature:

Beer me that voodoo sea snake

And my personal fav, the scooter bench in the outdoor circus tent-y patio:

“I get 25 miles to the gallon on this hog.”

In the spirit of patriotism in this exciting election season, I’ve decided to celebrate one of America’s favorite things: obeastly grub. With our economy in the crapper and idiots on the ticket, I decided nothing is as comforting as a heart-attack inducing snack in times of crisis. Try these at your own risk.

The Luther Burger is the mack daddy of fatty eats. Basically it’s a bacon cheeseburger sandwiched between 2 Krispy Kremes. Amazing? Probs. I’m afraid to try it for fear that it might send me into an epicurean utopia from which I can never escape.

The history behind the LB seems a bit shady with some sources saying it was named after the famous R&B crooner, and others saying he actually invented it when he ran out of hamburger buns. No wonder Mr. Vandross felt the power of love; I would too if it was sandwiched between a couple of donuts.

This little number is called the Hamburger Fatty Melt. It’s a hamburger between 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, which is totes genius.

Meet the Hamdog. Some crazy ass restaurant decided to take a hot dog, wrap it in a beef patty, deep fry that shit, throw it on a bun and then smother it in chili, cheese and onions. The coup de grâce is the fried egg they decided would be the cherry atop this artery clogging sundae. The whole thing sounds sick, but I’d probably take a bite and like it.

The Fat Darrell is the brainchild of a drunk college student. It’s inventor and namesake, Darrell Butler was craving chicken fingers, french fries and mozzarella sticks but didn’t have the cash to get all 3 from Rutgers University’s famous Grease Trucks. He asked the guy to throw it all on a sandwich and smother it with marinara sauce, and viola! The Fat Darrell sandwich was born. I’ve actually eaten one of these, and all I have to say is OMFG it’s ridic good.

Lastly, I can’t do a post on ridiculously fattening foods without mentioning the Queen herself, Paula Deen. Basically her entire arsenal of recipes can be posted under this thread, but I just saw her make this last week on her show so decided to go with her idea to make a cheesecake, take a slice and wrap it in a wonton wrapper, then DEEP FRY it and smother it in chocolate sauce. Holy eff, that woman is a saint. I love how she calls it Ultimate Fantasy Deep-Fried Cheesecake, which seems a little redundant considering what ELSE would deep fried cheesecake be besides the ultimate fantasy?

xoxo
Snarky