Pizzas with Chipotle Sauce

Recently, my cooking preoccupations have reoriented toward pizzas. I love pizza and it is, by far, one of my favorite meals. I've eaten fabulous sorts and some pretty disastrous pizza. For example, the disgusting specimen I was served in Abilene, Kansas was the worst pizza I've consumed--worse than the insipid pie sold from a rural Illinois gas station. If pizza is an option, no matter where I'm at in the world, I often try it if the situation permits. So there's little surprise that I enjoy whipping up a dough and firing the oven up to 500. Peaches and a few other ingredients appeared on my forays into grilled pizzas and, in actuality, my first dabbles with the dish.

I am cooking several pizzas in five weeks for a baby shower hosted at our apartment for close friends who are marrying in two and a half weeks. The exact number of guests for the baby shower is unclear, as is the total of pies and varieties. I'll run the grill and oven and will call upon Mark Bittman's easy pizza dough recipe in How to Cook Everything. In a matter of a couple of hours, the recipe produces a reliably tasty crust and base. The question is what to choose for toppings, and the suggestion window is open.

Recently, I added chipotle peppers to the sauce and boosted the tomato paste by a 1/4 of a cup, or so by eye, to boost the volume and consistency. The result has been a spicy sauce that works quite well with chicken chorizo as long as I balance the proportion of sauce and cheese. We topped the pizza with sauteed spinach last night and I was not blown away, to my disappointment. We learned, however, the longer the chipotle sits, a week in this case, the hotter the sauce. In the past, I eschewed a rolled up crust in favor of a standard flat pizza. I opted to alter my approach as the pictures demonstrate, and we've been impressed with the initial returns. I don't have a fool-proof formula and, as you can imagine, we'll experiment mightily in preparation for the baby shower parade of pizzas.

Brandon Eats a Double Down. Diarrhea Ensues.

Sometimes, to my dismay, I allow a joke to advance from flights of fancy and humor to the realm of possibility. Being snarky has its limits and then there's a time to be silly. That is the case with KFC's new sandwich, the Double Down. For those unfamiliar with this fried behemoth, the add wizards at KFC replaced a sandwich's traditional buns with fillets of original recipe fried chicken. In other words, they opted to forgo bread for maximum cholesterol. In between those golden, grease clogged slabs of chicken one finds the colonel's sauce, two slices of bacon, and slices of monterey jack and pepper jack cheese. I sipped on my A&W root beer while I waited for my name to be called and to peer at the recent darling of dietitians everywhere. The Double Down arrived hot and wrapped in paper to protect the eater from directly handling the greasy, gooey sandwich--a futile pursuit. The predominant flavor, as one would guess, is the fried chicken with hints of bacon mingled with the cheeses. All in all, as long as I neglected the nutrition facts, it was not as deplorable as I...well, envisioned. I can sum it up as anticlimactic.

Official photo

A Double Down's innards (thanks to treehugger for the image)

My brother-in-law, Dylan, visited this week and we snorted about the disgustingly tasty nature of this example of fast food run amok. I worked at a McDonalds and I still have an odd fascination with every unhealthy piece of "food" they and others advertise. For example, after watching Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me, I left the theater thinking "I really want a McDonalds' cheeseburger." (No, I didn't have the same reaction after completing Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation). My family was no stranger to fast food and I partake in it when I'm at an airport from time to time. I fondly remember driving to Casey, Illinois, with my grandfather to a Kentucky Fried Chicken to feed myself and cousins. Stated another way, I don't turn my nose up at eating fast food once in a while on a lark or for expediency's sake. Some people have a knee jerk aversion toward fast food--for health and I would argue class reasons--and I won't take issue with that sentiment. From a public health stand point, I do not doubt that it is a blight in a country battling an obesity epidemic. I recognize fast food for what it is, and I don't think that a double cheese burger and coke is a gateway drug to a diet comprised solely of unidentifiable fried chicken parts laden with mysterious sauces that run down my chin as I watch re-runs of Hee Haw. Nor will it lead to a stroke tomorrow considering my diet and exercise. Regardless, Kate humored this excursion and my self-punishing side won't offer up expiation on the cheap. And, frankly, neither did my digestive track, which was not a shock.

Capitalism: A Love Story

Prior to leaving for Morocco, my time was stretched thin and I wasn't afforded the opportunity of heading to the Mayan to view Michael Moore's latest installment. I can think of few documentarians who have ascended to Moore's prominence and polarizing nature. I grew up in a household that valued his mix of satire and gripping portrayals of Americans wronged by social inequities. From TV Nation to Canadian Bacon, I grew up around his films, shows, books, and speaking. (OK, Canadian Bacon happened, by random, to be shown on Comedy Central.) Capitalism doesn't deliver on a variety of fronts.

I'm familiar with the Moore template of campy footage of those halcyon days of the past--imagined and actual--juxtaposed to today's perfidy and error, and the subject matter usually runs along the same lines. Capitalism seemed looser and confuses meaning and intention. Is one to walk away from this with the closing argument that capitalism is unremittingly evil, thus calling for the institution of a new economic system? When the final message is, verbatim, "capitalism is evil," what is the desired outcome for a viewer? I'll return to that question at the end. Another point, Moore's films balance humor and critique. This time around, outside of a Cleveland video not of his making, it was flat and there was a paucity of jokes (dead pan or cheap) from the bespectacled, ballcapped, heavy set chap from Michigan. Of course, there's nothing funny about a massive capitalist economic failure, one could retort. Certainly true. Still, he discovered ways to lace the other films with humor.

For me, it started off oddly with commentary from Wallace Shawn. Who, you might ask? This fella from everyone's favorite 80s film (but not mine):

In fairness to Shawn, he apparently graduated from Harvard with a degree in history and had designs for a career in economics after studying at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. A BA approximately forty years ago doesn't entitle one to postulate as a qualified expert. There are a litany of academic economists who could have explicated our current economic failure and capitalism's flaws: Paul Krugman, Brad DeLong, Simon Johnson, James Galbraith, Robert Shiller, to name a few. Instead you have Vizzini the Sicilian? His use of Elizabeth Warren, on the other hand, was one of the bright spots in the film.

Capitalism tours the scorched landscape left after America's economic fortunes soured and, correctly, before when workers' wages failed to grow. In typical Moore fashion, those watching are treated to disturbing scenes of greed with families tossed out of homes, Dead Peasant insurance scams, and how little people (ie, the majority of Americans) suffer under capitalism's negative ramifications that benefited a fraction of our fellow citizens. I was heartened to see footage from the victorious Chicago Republic Windows and Doors sit down strike and residents retaking a foreclosed home before Moore launched into his theatrics that, to me, was a tired shtick even thought it worked in the past.

Near the end, viewers are treated to a previously unseen clip of President Franklin Roosevelt enunciating his proposal for a Second Bill of Rights before cameras. Moore neglects to mention that had Roosevelt lived, he would have faced the same culture of post-war conservatism that led to Taft-Hartley and opposed Harry Truman's Fair Deal.

He concludes with the resounding charge "capitalism is evil." By blurring the lines of capitalism's inherent villainy, Capitalism elides the past accomplishments of the post-war economic growth that generated a thriving middle class of a sort largely unseen in history. What should have been said, and will be lost on those who aren't familiar with the Cold War era, is regulated capitalism opens the door for opportunity and the implementation of neoliberalism led us to this teetering state of today. I can already hear the derisive, back handed "corporatist" attacks. Regardless, it was a disappointing way to wrap up the movie when he could have adopted a moderate stance that could return us to the prosperity of his youth. As a document of sorts, it's a product of the bubbling energy following Obama's electoral victory, and has yet to confront the realities of lowered expectations. The next few months will reveal the administration's and Senator Christopher Dodd's commitment to safeguarding the economy and finance capital's from its own devices that landed us in this current mess. Hey, at least no one is consulting Robert Rubin.

Obama revives Marx

Is a Cold Fish Equivalent to a Nurse's Smock?

Andy Stern, head of SEIU, sent Glenn Beck a care package of SEIU swag, including a purple nurse's smock with an attached note regarding health care. According to a Huffington Post article, Beck hypothesized that Obama wore a purple tie to "signal" Stern and SEIU, both of which are the victims of attacks from Beck on a consistent basis. This nonsense triggered Stern's gifts. Instead of accepting it as a good-natured, whimsical package, Beck compared the gift to the iconic scene in the Godfather when the Corleone family discovers that the Tattaglia family murdered Luca Brasi.

Beck's reply? He created a t shirt with the following message on the front: "I just wanted to overthrow the government in the 1960s and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."

Slow Cooker Chronicles v. 2 Chicken with Tarragon

For a couple of years, we kept a Real Simple recipe tacked to a cork backsplash with the good intentions of making this piece of paper a reality in our stomachs. The ingredients are straight-forward: chicken (we used thighs that I cleaned), tarragon, white wine, leeks, a bit of garlic, baby new potatoes, peas, and cream. And when your instructions entail throwing it all in a crock pot, with the exclusion of the cream and peas, it's a hassle free meal.

Failure might be feared but there's no fear of admitting failure here at the Raptor Space. The goods: the chicken tasted better than expected and the house was bathed in the delicious smell of leeks and chicken. The bads: it was an uninspired meal and the left-overs were equally disappointing. I mashed the potatoes with the cream in the stoneware, and it never warmed. Transferring it to a sauce pan was the only way to heat the mixture to an acceptable serving temperature, and the peas never cooked thoroughly. I will break out the crock pot for corned beef soon, other than that, there won't be future offerings of the slow cooker chronicles.

So here are some pictures. I return to my otherwise mundane life after the Praxis on Saturday.

Maybe I didn't give the potatoes the credit they deserved.

LEEKS

My shoulder is in focus as I scrape excess fat of the thighs.

Let's roll.

The final stop in an uneventful meal.

Slow Cooker Chronicles: Southwestern Brisket and '77

I love stumbling across a recipe for my slow cooker/crock pot. And when Smitten Kitchen posted a southwestern pulled beef brisket, I couldn't resist. I had also been waiting for an opportunity to stop in Oliver's Meat and Seafood Market on 6th, and I can't complain about a friendly, jovial butcher who is open at 8 on a Thursday morning. The brisket and Oliver's receive definite seals of approval.

SK's instructions are straight-forward, so I won't bother recapitulating them. Instead, I offer a brief photo journal of the experience from unwrapping to plating. I started the process around 9 and we ate at 7:30. We served the brisket on soft buns with a side of cranberry pecan sweet potatoes. The brisket cooked on low for around ten hours, and pulled apart with ease. The chipotle and molasses layered the beef and sauce with smokey, sweet flavors that merged well with the soft texture of the beef. In other words, it was a winner. I can add the brisket to the pork shoulder recipe as go to crock pot recipes that result in delicious meals. The Talking Heads' '77 played in the background for my soundtrack from the browning until I started the crock pot.

As some of you know, my last experience with the slow cooker was marred by two strong doses of food poisoning. I determined that the pork shoulder was not the culprit, and I didn't have any apprehension of reusing the crock pot. In March, we'll make a chicken tarragon meal and corned beef in the crock pot. Regarding the latter, St. Pat's is one of the few times where I can convince myself to participate in holiday mirth by consuming heaping portions of unhealthy meat.

I decided to strain and reduce the sauce this morning, as per SK's suggestion, while I typed this entry. I will certainly reduce in the future. The volume decreased by half and transformed into a smooth sauce that is neither too syrupy nor watery. She mentioned seasoning the sauce, but I found no need for additions. I can't wait for sandwiches tonight.

Unwrapping the brisket to Weymouth's fat bass of Psycho Killer seemed appropriate

Browning after a generous seasoning of salt and pepper.

Onions, garlic, coriander, cumin, chili pepper sauteing until fragrant.

Molasses, bay leaves, tomatoes, and chipotle peppers en adobo before adding to the mix.

Breaking up the tomatoes by hand. I'm pulled, I'm pulled up.

The brisket with all of the ingredients at the onset of the approximately ten hours in the crock pot.

Final product fresh out of the crock pot.


I posted two photos of the plating as each one showcases the meat in different lights (literally with and without flash) and the sandwiches' composition.