Filet-o-Fish? Yeah. And Twinkee the Kid is my Son with Mrs. Butterworth. Although, for a syrup bottle, you gotta admit, she's pretty stacked.

Somehow I just made more dishes in the past five hours making only seven things (and really only finishing three of them) than I think I made the past two Thanksgivings put together. My hands are still wrinkled (OMG dishpan hands? DAWN FTW) and I actually ran out of mixing bowls. But what you're looking at up there (for the Flickr title-challenged) is a cornmeal crusted piece of sole on top of some fresh ricotta cheese, homemade tomato jam all stacked on toasted peasant bread.

Tomato jam is something I see on menus all the time, but never really made — it always sounded like it might be a pain in the ass. As usual, it seems, I was right. Oh holy fuck though it is amazing. I'll even write out the recipe in a normal fashion here for you it was that good. But let this be a warning to you -- it takes about two to three hours and gotta watch it a little so it doesn't scorch. Just imagine a more intensely tomato, less acidic/pickle-flavored ketchup. This will go on sandwiches until the last bit has been scraped out with my finger one morning.

Really, the band just gave the vegetable a really bad name.

The corn succotash/relish/whatever was a last minute decision since I'm sort of sick of just plain corn on the cob. I roasted three jalapeños and then cooked them with some red onion and garlic, then added the corn and a little butter. Those chilis were straight up punch you in the crotch hot though. This has been the first time a jalapeño has bested me in a long time. I should have thrown a little sugar in there to balance it out and hit it lime juice at the end, but, eh. It was still fucking awesome.

Which brings us to the fish. A nice fillet of sole fresh from the farmers market this morning, simply dredged in seasoned corn meal and pan fried in a little olive oil.

Billy Jean is not my lover. This chicken very may well be though.

Last Saturday, for about the first time in three months or so, I decided to take an inventory of what was lurking in the back of the freezer. Figured it was about time to either use it or lose it. Sadly there were some surprises (pearl onions?), a few "oh, that's where that went" (chipotles, half a can of tomatoes), a bunch of "we need to eat it this week" (the chicken about to be mentioned) and some "holy shit I can't believe this is still in there" (wonton wrappers actually encrusted in ice in the back).

Said chicken was from a family pack of whole birds that was on sale at Fairway right before we left for our honeymoon. I had used most of it (backs and wings not included) so all was left was the whole breast. Since I had just gotten back from the farmers market and hadn't gotten any starches (other than the beets) and not wanting to go to the store again, it was time to improvise. (Yes, chicken should always be served with something like potatoes or rice. Or something. I eat enough rice as it is, so it was time for plan c.) Looking through the cupboard revealed about 2 cups of beluga lentils, and given the beets had their greens still with them, I figured I'd use that good ol' salmon/lentil thing along with the beet greens and cook the chicken to go on top.

This salad is a miracle of modern science. Atoms were smashed!

The chicken was roasted in my cast iron skillet until it hit 160°F and then set aside to rest while I made a quick white wine-mustard pan sauce. The greens were separated from the beets (which were then summarily roasted) and then further separated from the stems. I broke the stems down along with some garlic and a few leeks and then sweated them in olive oil. Added the lentils and chicken stock along with some thyme and let cook until the lentils were done. Stirred in the beet greens (which were cut into ribbons) and some sherry vinegar. The beets went into a salad of greens, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots from the farmers market with a roasted garlic vinaigrette.

I'm a little teapot, short and stout, here is my handle and here is my crust? Fuck. Wait a minute. I'm a pizza.

I would just like to mention, before I say anything, that I am currently watching Point Break on Fuse. This is:

1. fucked up since I work for MTV Networks and will probably get me fired.
2. The only thing on since, really, if Michael Phelps isn't on the Olympics, it's like who cares.
3. I am way too full to get up right now and go outside
4. VIA CON DIOS BRAH

1. Needs no discussion. My boss is a total ogre. But only in World of Warcraft.
2. Lets face it: Everyone loves a winner.
3. Holy shit pizza.
4. You're welcome Jim.

Santa Monica Airport Fast! But there's only one problem. We can't arrest them. Or shoot them.

Pizza. Holy shit pizza.

One of my favorite ways to plan what to make for dinner is to ask Julie what she wants to eat. I know it sounds simple, but she will occasionally ask for things that I've never made before and I feel like she's just challenging me. This morning Julie asked me to make her pizza. I figured, hey, why not. Especially since we had just gotten back from the farmers market with a plethora of amazing produce: tomatoes, basil, fennel, red onions, beets, lettuce, carrots, peppers, leeks, hot peppers, string beans, fresh goats milk feta; the list is nearly endless.

Now, admittedly, I've tried to make pizza once before. The less I talk about it the better off we all are. It never even got past the dough phase (post-mortem diagnosis: too much water in the dough.) This time I resolved to do better. I used bread flour and about 1/4 cup less of water than I had before. It all came to be around 3 cups of bread flour, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 2 teaspoons kosher salt and 1 teaspoon of instant yeast. Put it together in the food processor and added the water until the dough just became a ball and then let it go for a bit, took it out and kneaded for a few minutes on the counter. I set it in an oiled bowl covered with a damp towel for a few hours. After two hours I took it out of the bowl, punched it down and wrapped it very tightly in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge.

4 hours later I took the dough out and left it on the counter as I set about caramelizing some of the fennel and red onions in a little bit of olive oil. After about 12 minutes I deglazed the pan with about a 1/2 cup of white wine and let it boil down to a thick syrup. I then put the oven on 525°F and set about handling the dough.

In no way, shape nor form was this photo entirely staged. Seriously. I had that dough spinning like a merry-go-round.

OK. I'm gonna come clean. I used a rolling pin for the most part. I did some stretching by hand and a little bit of local-corner-pizza-shop-on-your-knuckles spinning, but really? This was done by a rolling pin. I mean I can barely play frisbee. There was no way I was going to let my hard-won dough fly off into a pile of cat fur or the recycling. After rolling out the pizza, I laid them in my two cast iron pans. I figure the cast iron was gonna capture and retain heat way better than any sort of sheet pan I had (no pizza stone), and it would give the crust some much needed heat.

I mean, really, when you think about it, veganism is just total bullshit posturing. Look at that smoked mozzarella. You look at that and tell me you don't want to eat it. And I'll look at you and know I'm looking at a liar.

Now that I had the dough out of the way, it was time for the toppings. Pizza number one had sliced tomatoes and goats feta, drizzled with a little bit of olive oil and then hit with basil when it came out. Pizza number two was the caramelized fennel and onions, chopped tomato and smoked mozzarella with a drizzle of olive oil and then hit with fennel fronds when it came out.

I know, I took a lot of photos. It's ok. I then ate a lot of pizza.

Holy.

Shit.

Bullshit egoism aside, this may have been one of the best meals I have ever made. I had the pizzas in the oven for about 16 minutes total. When they came out the dough was crunchy and crisp on the outside and pleasantly chewy on the crust. You could pick up the slice and eat it with out of hand. The toppings where a perfect foil to each other with the sweetness of the fennel and onions countering the acidity from the tomato and the smokiness of the cheese giving it just enough depth. The basic tomato and feta pie may have been even better — just as simple as you can get.

Oh yeah, and there was salad.

You know, each time I make a comment on a photo I have to type out the whole <em style="font-size: 9pt;">. You'd think I'd have made some sort of style for this, but no. That's how lazy I am.

Nah. These aren't taquitos. Although I'd really like some now. Also, it's quite odd that a lot of Spanish/Mexican (I've never seen a taquito in Spain, but down in Mexico they don't speak Mexican) words that have a "q" in them also have the nearly requisite "u" following it. Is this a rule throughout all languages? Or is this just latin-derived languages? I mean the Germans don't really even bother with it — for the few they do use (the Q section of my German-English dictionary is not even a full two pages out of the 712 pages devoted to German words) and of them many seem to be loan words from Latin. I guess this would make sense since the Latin Q is derived from the Greek "Qoppa" and the Etruscan "Q" (which, apparently, was always followed by a V, so I guess there you have it.) (And yes, I just wikipedia'ed this while I was writing this paragraph.)

So don't tell me that you guys never learn anything by reading this blog. Well, I mean, at least not about cooking. I hope you're learning something about cooking or at least getting ideas. Or hungry. Either way.

God she's a classy dame. And yes, we really do eat at the table most nights. It's not just for mail.

But, yes. These aren't taquitos rather enchiladas. This is an admittedly gross story, so please feel free to skip to the next paragraph if you want, but whatever, you know you're going to read it anyway. So I had pretty bad constipation the other night. I'm not sure how — I generally eat a decent amount of whole grains, bran and roughage, but this one was particularly bad. Anyway, I was rifling through the magazine rack looking for something to read that I hadn't read a thousand times before and I came across the early summer (June?) issue of Cooks Illustrated buried at the bottom of the pile. Now, I'm a fan of the show — they do ridiculous things in order to make things work well for the home cook even if they are anal retentive about everything, but I rarely make anything from the magazine. Anyway, they had a recipe for enchiladas verdes that, as much as I was trying to pinch out a loaf, sounded totally amazing.

Yellow rice may actually be one of the most delicious things in the world.

And really what Mexican dish doesn't taste better without some rice and beans? None. None of them is correct answer. I was actually pretty surprised how easy the recipe was to follow, especially after I omitted some of the more pain-in-the-ass type steps like "roasting the tomatillos" or "cooking the chicken." I mean, that's why god invented cans right? Because let me tell you, poached chicken is 100% replaceable with delicious Hormel Vienna Sausage and salsa verde? Jarred salsa with green food coloring. I mean, seriously, what the fuck is a tomatillo anyway? Looks like some fancy yankee word for Green Tomatas I reckon. Just roll those puppies up in some flatted wonder bread and put that sucker in the toaster oven until the velveeta flows like 10w40 in my '63 Ford Mustang.

Pretty good lookin' for something thought up of while on the crapper, eh?

Since I stole this recipe from Cooks Illustrated, I'll just forward you on to their site. Yeah, I know, membership required. 14 day free trial though!

You'd think that after being in the freezer for only 24 hours it'd only take 12 hours to thaw this piece of tuna in the fridge. Also you'd think the president of the United States would be intelligent. You'd think a lot of things that are wrong these days.

It was my co-worker Tony's birthday on Friday, which incidentally was my first day back at work after the wedding/honeymoon. (Yes, it was a long break. Yes, I would rather still be drinking gin at noon and napping at two. Yes, there are photos, we went to Alaska. Click through one of those flickr-photo-dealys.) For his birthday we decided we'd all go fishing in the ocean off Sheepshead Bay in the lovely shadow of the southern approach for JFK. (You ever fly in and land from the south? Ever look down and see a ton of small boats/a scattering of lights? That was us. Well, I mean, unless it was Friday night between around 7:30 and 11:30, it wasn't us. But, you know, you get the point.). So after work (it was a blissfully gorgeous summer Friday) we got some beer, ate some crabs and then loaded ourselves onto one of the boats that ply these waters for the occasional fisherman to test their skills. And test they did. During the course of the entire five hours spent asea, only one keeper among the boat was caught. Talk about bunk. Jim did take us back to his place though and make us some bomb fucking nachos though.

Oi myte! In Australia we call this watcherydoo and run down emu in them!

Oh shit. Wait. This isn't about nachos nor fruitless fishing fun. This is actually about fish. The reason I was so inspired to cook more fish this week was the hopeful bounty of fresh fish I was planning on catching on Friday night. With no fish in hand though I had to turn to other means. Luckily the farmers market has a fish monger in McCarren Park on Saturday morning (and I woke up early enough after getting home at 3:30 AM to get there before the torrential downpour). The tuna was looking amazing, so I got myself a steak thinking I would cook it that night and make a Tuna Niçcoise salad with the veggies from our (downright horrible — more on that later) CSA. As fate would intervene though I ended up making a harissa-marinated flank steak with hummus and a feta, tomato, cucumber and onion salad that night, followed by linguine with monkfish, zucchini and thyme on Sunday. And I totally forgot that I owned a digital camera so you'll have forgive the lack of information about them. Only to say that the latter of the two was a Mario Batali recipe and it was fantastic, but better yet took about 35 minutes to make from start.

Back to the point thought. On Saturday afternoon when I realized the tuna was not meant to be for the next few days I threw it in the freezer to extend out it's shelf life. Sunday night I should have pulled it back to the fridge, but I'm a little retarded (and possibly drunk from the bottle of Chianti that Julie and I shared*.) Luckily, or so I thought, I remembered it this morning after getting it out of the shower. Figuring it'd only been in the deep freeze for 36 hours it'd be fine with 12 hours in the chill box. Much to my surprise when I got home it was still a decidedly not-so-delicious tuna-sicle. Thankfully running cold water is thermally dense enough to pull out the freeze without heating the tuna up; it just took another 2 hours after I got home. (For those at home doing the math I got home at 7:30).

* Sharing a bottle of wine with Julie means I get to drink an entire bottle of wine with her drinking at most a full glass, but usually just a half a glass. It makes me feel like less of an alcoholic since I didn't technically drink the entire bottle, but usually makes me just sloppy enough to be forgetful and sleepy.

Amazingly enough, at this point, this is suitable for vegan consumption. Unless of course the promise of meat to come and the dead animal visions in my head while I assembled this portion de-veganify this totally and completely. But hey, as has been said before and will be said again: you can't make friends with salad.

With little time for a marinade to soak in (I did want something other than just straight up tuna) I figured I'd get a little Japanese on it (especially since I was already planning on eating soba noodles and had made a detour to the health food store AND the C-Town to get soba noodles and Kikkoman soy sauce on the way home. Can you believe that Fairway did not have Kikkoman on Sunday? That's like not having Heinz!) and so I mixed up a little mirin, rice wine vinegar, sesame oil and soy sauce with some shredded ginger, minced garlic and wasabi powder and threw the thawed fish in there.

After bringing a pot of water to the boil I cooked the soba noodles, pulled them out and then blanched the green beans followed by the carrots, making sure to shock the veggies in an ice water bath. After this was all done I tossed them with some of the marinade (minus the wasabi powder) I had reserved and scatted on some sesame seeds and scallions. I heated up the grill pan to "fuck-you-hot," patted dry the tuna and pressed it into a bed of sesame seeds and then grilled it, five minutes to a side.

Red at night means sailor's delight, correct? If so, just call me a salty seaman!

Man that was worth the wait, but I think I need to get my fridge a little less chilly.