Eugenios Four Cheese Pizza

Hello, this is November 29th...and I'm, Leonard. And today I'm reviewing Costco's Chicken Potstickers. 

So, let's say that you've been laid off and have to stay home all the time due to the global economy tanking because of a new contagious disease, what do you do? Well, you're going to want 2 things: a designated driver and a bag of frozen potstickers. And fresh ginger.

Ok, so, I bought the ginger to make ginger beer, and that hasn't happened. Mostly because I'm not sleeping much and all I really have the energy for are convenience foods. Enter: the light lunch frozen potstickers.

Now, I could tell you how to cook them, or your could read the fucking bag. And are they special? Anything but. Enter: the ginger.

Don't use the sauce packet that comes with it. Or do, I haven't tried it. Instead make your own sauce. 4T rice wine vinegar, 4T soy sauce, 3 or 4 cloves minced or pressed garlic (you love food so much, go ahead and mince it. But if you do, why are you eating frozen potstickers?), maybe a teaspoon of sesame oil, and a shitload of ginger, grated. 

Oh, you were going to use a microplane for the ginger. Fine. Go ahead. Fucking 'foodie'. 

I have one too. I'd use it if I wanted fluffier ginger. And let's face it: I could hide my shame, or double down on it by admitting that I use a ginger grater. to get a juicy goo. It was like a buck. And you get all the juice. Oh, the juice. I'm not better than you, like, at all. Sometimes I lick the juice out of the grater after I make the sauce.

Photo montage:

Yeah, I warm the bowls. You wanna eat shit that has one cold side? Go ahead. 

Either way, you gotta sauce it:

Saaaaauuuuuuuce!

I mean, it is a chicken thingy. Good for a snack. Each bag has about 14 servings of 6 pieces. So, on sale that was about 71￠ per serving. Not on sale it was about a buck. The sauce has to be like 10￠or less per serving. 

Definitely a buy.

So, why the hell not have some, then share some graham crackers with your dog.

More Hot Dogs

Things have moved on. Moved on from bags of used hot dogs given to me out of pity and moved to Canada (my fellow Americans, good luck with Capt. Coo-Coo Bananas, but I'll still be voting and doing my own decolonization and anti-racism work with my Auntie Fa up north).

My hot dog studies have definitely moved forward. I have a grill. Yes, it is a gas grill. And, yes, I don't have (and have not yet ever had) any gas for it. But it holds promise. More importantly, I bought a 36-pack of hot dogs recently. The hot dog landscape in Canada is weird. Buns come in packs of 12 and hot dogs come in packs of 5, 6 or 10, but sometimes 7 or 8 too.

[rufus photo]
Honestly, I really thought I was done cooking hot dogs at home. I really, really did. But we got a new dog--Rufus--a 18 month old Border Collie. And he is an asshole. So, we are using hot dogs as a treat to train him. Now, he gets the no name® brand chicken hot dogs. Which at 10 dogs (450 grams) for $1.99 CAD are cheap, but they don't have flavor--and passing the salt isn't going to fucking help. But buying hot dogs for dog training only rekindled the fire. The fire in my heart for hot dogs. Or maybe that isn't so much fire as a feeling like an elephant is sitting on my chest and pain is shooting down my left arm. Maybe hot dogs are still a bad idea. Maybe the world is going to end tomorrow. Maybe American democracy will start working again. I don't know.

But this is a food blog, right? And I said something about hot dogs, right? Right.

So: here is a hot dog, pan fried in butter. I dropped the buns in the butter to brown them up too.

Hot dog: 1 at 49¢ (a 56 ¼ gram dog, but only comes in a pack of 36 for $17.99 CAD)
Bun: 1 at 21.5¢ (a 12 pack for $2.59 CAD. I'm buying potato buns next time. Fuck these regular buns)
Butter: 1 tablespoon at let's say 12 ¢?
Total: 82.5¢ CAD.

Now the only questions are do I finish this off with a few Mr. Creamys and will my photos actually fucking upload. Here's a photo of the new dog, as an apology for using the phrase 'bag of dicks' in my last post:

He looks like an angel, right? Looks like.

No More Hot Dogs

Last month I was playing in a bonspeil and our team won a mystery box.  When I asked another player what they thought was in the box I was told "a bag of dicks." Not having much of an idea what that was I promised him that if he was right he'd get the first mushroom stamp with the first fresh dick.

Now the chickens have come home to roost.  With a bag of free hot dogs—used.  Yeah, you know it is time to go down to social services and reapply for SNAP benefits when someone offers you a bunch of used hot dogs and you take them.  The good news is that they also had extra buns.  Or rolls.  I think that is some sort of eastern thing…like Maine or something.

Which brings us to cooking them.  Or re-cooking.  Or, really, re-re-cooking.  Usually I'd boil hot dogs in a shallow pan, but that doesn't seem like a good idea since they've been split.  The microwave is for lazy people, which sounds like me, but doesn't do much for the texture.  So that leaves me with the broiler (too much wasted heat for one hot dog) or throwing the flippity floppity in a pan.  And that really is the best way to get some browning going.

A Hot Dog Sandwich?

There are a lot of questions and cultural implications about hot dogs, but for now I'll only dream of a day with none.

The Pie and the Hound

Yeah, I haven't been to Ohio in a few months.  But I still have dreams about Hound Dog's.

It was worth it with a brother like Martin…

Being back in the DC area presents challenges.  These are mostly related to Mexican Food. 

Now, I won't lie to you: I love Mexican Food.  Very much.  I talk about it at parties.  I dream about it.  I'd almost go as far as saying that it is the last thing that I think about before falling asleep at night and the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning—except that would be going too far.  But I do get excited about it.

I suppose this is mostly because it is rare in Washington, DC.  There is a lot of delicious Salvadorian food.  Lots.  Now, I don't want to say that this or that isn't "Real" Mexican food.  See, I grew up in the Mid-west and my ideal Mexican meal comes from Chicago.  Admitting that doesn't go over well in Arizona.  I like the food in Arizona too—I was told that I could get "real Mexican food" in Arizona, but it was still real (yeah, we have the same problem when we talk about what "real food" is at the farmer's market—but that is another story).  The good news is that lots of Mexican food can be found nearby—once you know where to look.

The first big advance was Route 1.  Up towards Baltimore.

Martin's is just a first step, there will be more in time.

Chicken Pot Pie?

Yeah, one of those.  Not very impressive.  Nothing special—unless David Cross gets involved.

How was it?  Not bad.  The pastry was ok, flakyish in a sort of chemically engineered way.  There were peas and carrots.  And chicken chunks (not a lot, but there were some).  The star was the gravy.  Not because it was good, but because the gravy really tied the pie together.

And for 69¢, well, this could be ok from time to time.  It was pretty filling—a reasonable meal.  As always the concern with frozen foods is sodium and this one has a good amount, but it is 33% of what you should have in a day (according to the box), which isn't too bad.

The real question is if you want to be this guy.

Travel Sandwiches

Yeah, after a couple of days of these the idea of a shitty hamburger and flaccid french fries will sound pretty good.  But for about 15¢ each it isn't so bad.  Or so good.

Nothing good ever came out of Mentor, Ohio.

"First I was born.  Then the trouble begins."

So it isn't that I'm opposed to boutique grilled cheese restaurants.  I'm not.  What I have trouble with is them doing it poorly.

So while in Columbus, Ohio I went to lunch with my Father et al. at a place in the "Short North" called "Melt".  Wow, the Short North continues to change.  Pretty soon it will creep far enough north that it will meet the South Campus mall-like development juggernaut and there won't be any smutty parts of town left—and I can't get behind that.  The atmosphere was really just something that we should have let die in the 90s.

BUT ABOUT THE SANDWICH: Nice attempt, poor execution.  What went wrong?
Well, first there was the name.  "Kindergarden".  Just because it wasn't made with crab cakes or bull semen it is some sort of under developed piece of crap that lacks maturity?  Come on!  I'll tell you what, you have to master the basics before you paint like Francis Bacon.  And there is the problem.

The bread: too thick.  Cooked too quickly, leaving too much moisture in the center so that it totally collapses when you bite into it.  Not only that but the high temperature and nature of the bread lead to an unfortunate pattern of browning—a thin ring at the crust and a spot in the center with the space in between left underdone.  So for the most part there wasn't a good bite to the sandwich.  It just squishes. See, a good grilled cheese should have a slight snap when you bite into it—sort of like a fine hot dog, but less so—a quality entirely absent.

The cheese: Fine.  A bit too much.  It was a mixture of provolone and cheddar.  But where there is too much bread you'll usually find too much cheese.

Over all I just think we lacked refinement.  I think someone needs to spend a few months alone in a cabin in the woods with a loaf of white bread, bunch of "cheese" singles, and a fucking hot plate.  I know, it isn't exactly fine dining, but stripping down you it will teach you how to handle your materials in a more meaningful way.

I'm sure you'll hear more about my grilled cheese journey here.  For now I'll leave you with this thought:

Not perfect, but fair for 35¢.

Fly Free, Giant Eagle

Shocking.  I'm eating more doughnuts.  

Of course I'm eating more doughnuts.  Good ones for sure.

This time they are from Giant Eagle, a Pittsburgh based grocery store.  Not to be confused with Giant Eagle Market District—their upmarket version.  These came from the regular Giant Eagle at Bethel and Sawmill in Columbus, Ohio.

See, they do very similar doughnuts.  But Market District tries to make their version more, well, upmarket.  The result is, well, upmarket and a bit cloying.  I think I even ended up with a custard filling once.  I don't think there is anything wrong with a custard filled Long John, but it is a real shock to the system to bite into something and get gush of custard if you have no warning.

Now, these doughnuts—these doughnuts—are pretty good doughnuts.  Why?  Well, I'll tell you:

The Pastry:  

1. The Skin: When you bite into there is little resistance caused by the skin—a doughnut shouldn't have a crust and the skin should be barely noticeable.  Staleness is going to happen, but overcooked doughnuts have an unnecessarily thick and crunch skin.  That might be nice for a fritter, but not so much here.  B+, a little too much bite, but only a little.

2a. Interior Texture: Tight, but not too tight.  Ok, here I think for a glazed ring you want a more open crumb (something on the baguette end of things), but for something filled you need a medium crumb.  A crumb that is too dense will create dense nodules when displaced by filling—too light and it isn't satisfying.  A-, good, supportive texture, nice chew.

2b. Interior Moisture: The crumb is moist—almost but not quite custardy on its own.  Not wet, that would be terrible.  But a dry crumb makes for an unpleasant doughnut.  A, just about right.

Frosting: Dark, not too sweet.  Not too much.  A-, it could have even more bitterness for my taste, but I am likely a bit extreme in my taste.  

Filling: Somewhere between soft peaks and stiff peaks.  You know, medium peaks—ones that stay peaked, but sag under its own weight when you take a bite and it splooges out the other end.  Sweet, a little vanilla (not overpowering, but necessary to balance the chocolate).  Shouldn't be oily or wet feeling.  A.

The only sad thing is that I don't have more of them.

Young Lovers

The Fat Days

A blast from the past: my typical lunch back in late winter 2011.  Back then I could afford to be a vegetarian (the sandwich is fake hickory smoked turkey, provolone cheese, and either hummus or mustard and mayo--the sandwich cost about 90 cents).

Everything is Bigger in Texas

Dateline: Houston!

Turns outthey have their own ways of doing things here. When I went into the candy shop and asked if there were pecans (although I said "peck-ans") in the candies they call "Longhorns" I was shocked that I wasn't thrown out, but gently corrected and told that they are made with "pee-cans". In my day I would have gone to far. Have we gotten so soft-even in Texas?

Of course, the real news is about something really important: Donuts.

Donut is what the sign promised--and delivered. You have to understand: My preferred doughnut is usually a tender sugar-cream filled long john. The skin should offer no resistance and the interior must be moist and not too airy (about half way between sandwich bread and a baguette crumb)--you know, a crumb that is a bit custardy. They have those here. But they call theme éclairs (no, they call them eeeee-clares, ok?). The thing about that is that they are a slab of doughnut measuring about 9 by 4 inches, about an inch high. Less an éclair or long john, not even a chocolate frosted log (yeah, the maple log is more common, mostly occurring out west). No, this is clearly a milled or hewn plank of doughnut. I could club a seal with this thing if it were just stale enough.

Almost as good as a medical grade sterile 2x4.

How was it? Big. It came off a bit stale at one end, but had a nice bite otherwise. The crumb was a bit tol thight, but without being too heavy. The frosting was typical-not chocolaty enough (ideally the frosting is chocolaty to the point of almost being to the edge of being bitter, but not over the line-the sweetness is provided by the filling). Here is the real problem: the filling. It was oily, yes, but we'll take what we can get. See, it wss loose. Almost a liquid. Lacking in viscosity. Still, not bad for an airport doughnut.

Now, if I had to eat dinner here in Houston I'd definitely eat at Space City BBQ. Every other place is too fancy--including both burrito places in terminal B. Space City BBQ has a sign printed on foam-core and stuck up with foam double stick tape. Too bad I'm not hungry.

Pizza for 40

Good Friday (kneaded but not risen).

It may be in bad taste to compare pizza to Jesus, but let's not keep us from cooking for three dozen people.


Kneading this much dough is a pretty good workout. 

Easter Sunday (Risen!)

And then I failed to take an after photo.  The good news it they ate it…all.

Ready to be baked.

So:

Whisk together in a very large bowl:
23 ½ c Flour (I always use King Arthur AP unless I'm really broke)
5 T Salt
4 T Active Dry Yeast

Heat to about 100° F:
8 c (½ gallon!) Milk
then whisk in:
1 c Olive oil
3 T plus 1 t Sugar

Be sure sugar is dissolved.  Then add wet to dry.  Mix until it forms a shaggy dough. 
Turn onto floured counter.  Knead until it feels right.  10 to 12 minutes.  You know how it feels, right?

Place dough on a lightly oiled (use the same olive oil) half-sheet pan, rub a coating of oil over surface too. Cover loosely with plastic wrap.

Let rise 1½-2 hours.  Or for faster rise place in over at about 160° oven (this is what I usually do—but I cover with tin foil rather than plastic wrap when it goes in the oven).

Split dough into 5 balls.  Usually these are about 1150-1200 grams each.  Let sit for about ten minutes to relax dough, then stretch out to fit in half sheet pans.

Lightly coat bottom of 5 sheet pans with olive oil and throw in the dough.  You can dress these now or later.  Let rise about half an hour.  You can chill them, then let them rise or whatever (I put them in the ice shed and then pull them out after the third end).

Dress with sauce (recipe below), about 1¼ pound of grated mozzarella cheese.  Other toppings as desired.  I cover with pepperoni—a seven ounce package per pizza is more than enough.

Sauce:
Combine a large saucepan over medium heat:
¼ c Olive Oil
2 heads Garlic

Cook the garlic in the oil, then add:
3 cans (28 oz) Crushed Tomatoes

Simmer until nice and thick.  Usually takes about 2 hours.  Watch out for the splatter.


This is about $5 for the flour (the good KA AP sutff), $1 for yeast,  $2 for milk, $2.50 for olive oil (sauce, dough, and for pans), and maybe 10¢ each for salt and sugar.  $8 for peperoni, $17 for cheese, $2 for tomatoes and 70¢ for garlic.  That totals about $38.40, so a bit under a dollar a person (2 slices each, 16 slices per pie).  I usually end up spending a bit closer to $45 because it takes a bit more than a 5 pound bag of flour and you can't get cheap cheese in the intermediate quantities—but I use the leftovers. 

Fasting for Immigration Reform

This time we are talking about food.  We're talking about not food.

For the next day I'll be fasting as part of the Fast 4 Families.  Just 24 hours.  From 5pm Sunday to 5pm Monday.  Water only.

A lot of people have already been fasting and will go on doing so—a day is just a gesture of solidarity with them.  Of course, I write this as I suck down a bowl of ice cream before the start time rolls around.

Chocolate Bonus Saturday!

This is how it happened:  I was at Aldi waiting in line and there it was.  Big ass chocolate bars (7 ounces or so) for 79¢!  With eight rows of four blocks I'll eat an eighth of the bar at a time (most times—sometimes I'll just take two block in the car).  

Serving cost: 8¢

Shut up, you know I bought 10 bars.

Hedgehog Repair

We can't spend all our time cruising the frozen food and canned vegetable aisles.  Oh, no.

Today we spent some time repairing worn dog toys—she gave the hedgehog a rather rudimentary lobotomy.  Now the hedgehog is well again!

The 12¢ Donut

[In the voice of Dr. Hathaway] Good evening.  Tonight we're going to look at something most of us take for granted… the doughnut.  What does it look like?

Ok, yeah, a donut is nice.  I like doughnuts a lot more though

Oxford Encyclopedic English Dictionary, 3rd Ed., 1996

Ok, there isn't any.  Donut is a shortened spelling of doughnut that is particularly common in the US.  But I feel like there is a difference.  I'm not talking cake versus yeast or some sort of geographic thing.  I can't even draw a distinct line to separate one from the other.  I can't say that either is the platonic ideal of a doughnut—even if there were, I wouldn't want to know about it.

Webster's Third New International Dictionary of the English Language, Unabridged, 1963

That pretty much covers it all.  I suppose something doughnut like (sense 2) really calls for the longer spelling, right?  Otherwise it is up to you.

That being said, I still feel like there is a difference.  There are a couple of things that can make a doughnut a donut:

• Made to keep for days—so it is usually sold in a box, maybe even in a miniature form (like Donettes or the superior Tastykake Mini Donuts).  Yes even Entenmann's donuts—even their chocolate coated ones—fall well in donut territory.
• Bought in a connivence store—7-11, QT, Sheets, and others often sell fresh donuts.  They are ok.  But usually not that fresh.  Or made with a great deal of care.
• Those sold by most grocery store bakeries—They just aren't that well made.  Usually it is the bite and mouth feel that downgrade these to donuts.
• Krispy Kreme—I don't really like these greasy bastards with donuts or doughnuts.  They are their own thing.  Even though I "don't really like" them sometimes I eat them.  And if I eat more than two I enter a world of pain, Smokey.

That isn't to say that you can't get a good doughnut in a grocery store bakery.  I know I have.  Meijer, based near Grand Rapids, usually has pretty excellent doughnuts.  As does Giant Eagle out of Pittsburgh.

But, I, unfortunately, am not in either of their territory.  And I can't afford a 75¢ doughnut.  

The good news it: I'm willing to settle:

12¢ donut, 15 to a box, from Aldi

Why Five Meals?

Obviously, I can't just write about food—because food isn't just about food.  But this isn't about food.

I figure you should know why the blog is named "Five Meals"—as in "Five Meals from One Chicken".

That's right.  From the song.  You know the one.

See, back in the 90's a friend of mine told me about this wonderful band.  And sent me a tape.  I know the song isn't really about chicken—not that I eat much chicken, but it is a good song.

Oh, that and when I was last in a tight spot I had five cheap go-to meals.  I'll eat them again with great frequency, but I'm hoping this blog will give me reason to diversify.

(Fake) Chicken and Rice with Dust

Ok, So I've already lied to you—this is a meal that I can't really afford.  See: the fake chicken patties were in my freezer from back in the fat days.  I couldn't afford them now.

Gaze upon the gloopy glory:

 

So, Dr. Hathaway, what is it, really like?

Well, it is a couple Morning Star Chick Patties Original—sounds utterly charming—and a bag of Rice Bowl brand Cheddar Broccoli rice side dish.  The bag of rice with dust (charitably we can call it a cheddar broccoli precursor, I guess) was just like you'd think.  Rice with goop—although serviceable as rice leaves a great deal to be desired as far as the "sauce".  See, the final like of the instructs goes like this: "Sauce will thicken upon standing."  That can't be good.  

The less said about the little chunks of broccoli stem (which must have been lyophilized, I hope) the better.

Breaking it down:

Water & cooking gas: let's not nickel and dime things (or lets, but this is just too negligible to worry about)

Rice Bowl Cheddar Broccoli Rice Side Dish: 54 cents

1 Tablespoon butter: 7 cents

Morning Star Chick Patties Originial (2): $1.74 

Total: $2.36

But this is a good news/bad news thing.  This was really 2 meals (breakfast and lunch on a Sunday), so that is $1.18 for a meal.  And since I bought the fake chicken patties back when I had a real income they don't really count.  But if this happens again it will be without the fake chicken—they don't add much (not that there is much to add to).  54 cents for something so filling may be ok if I'm in a really, really, really bad pinch.

Winter Has Come

Oh, it is that time again.  Layoffs, cutbacks, offshoring.  Or something like that.

The long and short of it is this: I have to learn how to make five meals from one chicken again.  Or something like that.

See, with budgets tight as they are we all have to tighten our belts and make do.  So here we go: Pasta-Roni, PB&J, cassaroles made with mushroom soup—all those gut cramping things.  Or not.

See, my everyday meals should cost less than a dollar.  Not exactly exciting, but there it is.  But let's just try to make it a little more exciting.  Just a little.  And we'll count the pennies.


Hamilton Duck says it best: "Winter has come."
(I'll go with Martha Stewart on that: "It's a good thing.")