Fish was my father's name. Please, call me Mr. Middlebrow.

So there’s this crazy-ass meme going around. My erstwhile blog pal and mentor Fish named me as a successor.

Pharyngula Mutating Genre Meme

There are a set of questions below that are all of the form, "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is…". Copy the questions, and before answering them, you may modify them in a limited way, carrying out no more than two of these operations:

— You can leave them exactly as is.

— You can delete any one question.

— You can mutate either the genre, medium, or subgenre of any one question. For instance, you could change "The best time travel novel in SF/Fantasy is…" to "The best time travel novel in Westerns is…", or "The best time travel movie in SF/Fantasy is…", or "The best romance novel in SF/Fantasy is…".

— You can add a completely new question of your choice to the end of the list, as long as it is still in the form "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is…".

You must have at least one question in your set, or you've gone extinct, and you must be able to answer it yourself, or you're not viable.

Then answer your possibly mutant set of questions. Please do include a link back to the blog you got them from, to simplify tracing the ancestry, and include these instructions.

Finally, pass it along to any number of your fellow bloggers. Remember, though, your success as a Darwinian replicator is going to be measured by the propagation of your variants, which is going to be a function of both the interest your well-honed questions generate and the number of successful attempts at reproducing them.

My great-great-great-great-grandparent is Flying Trilobite
My great-great-great-grandparent is A Blog Around the Clock.
My great-great-grandparent is Shakespeare's Sister.
My great-grandparent is Excuse This Mess...
My grandparent is Saying Yes.
My parent is Really Small Fish

My siblings are Scott and Plover.

1. The best drama in scientific dystopias is: Battlestar Galactica.

2. The best sexy song in rock is: “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC. A bit obvious, even by Beavis and Butt-Head standards, but still. Plus, it promotes good hygiene an/or proper operational, uh, maintenance: "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean..."

First runner-up is “Sex Supreme” by Tenacious D (the slightly cleaned-up version they did on SNL was actually funnier than the uncensored one. Whoudathunk that “patch” could be funnier than “snatch”?)

3. The best cult movie in absurdist fiction is: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. “I do not avoid women, Mandrake. But I deny them my essence.”

4. The best dead comedian in American comedy is Phil Hartman.
The closest I ever came to crying about the death of a celebrity. He was one of the greats. "My name is John Johnson, but everyone here calls me 'Vicki.'"

5. The best moment in live television was: Neil Armstrong stepping onto the surface of the moon or Christopher Walken catching a fever for which the only cure was more cowbell (tie).

6. The most erotic of all the salt-cured meats is pastrami.

Now it’s up to my progeny to go out there and make me proud:

Stennie, Irene Done, Tammara, Goldie, Shamus, Ed

A Small Fortune

In the man-cub's fortune cookie from P.F. Chang's the other night:

I just hope this doesn't involve my life insurance policy.

Don't pay the pizza man; don't even fix a price.

Making pizza is easy. Not as easy as dialing the phone and getting the door, maybe. But way more satisfying. Or maybe I'm an inveterate food geek who's lost all perspective. Either way, it's just pennies a serving!

Here's all you need:

Lukewarm water, honey or sugar, yeast, all-purpose flour and a stand mixer (with a dough hook) or a stout food processor (with a plastic dough blade). Or you could, I suppose, mix it all up in, like, a bowl and knead it on the counter. Like they did in olden days.

While I've always pined for one of those crinkle-black, mac-daddy industrial-strength (600w) KitchenAid stand mixers, I find the white, uptight and outtasite KitchenAid food processor to be a bit more versatile. And way easier to rationalize than a machine I'd lay out three bills for, just to make pizza dough. Pennies a serving or not.

It also helps if you have a baker's peel (one of those flat wooden dealies with a handle; sorta looks like a big scary paddle--and works as one in a pinch, or so I hear.) It's it's not a deal-breaker if you don't. You just need something to get the thing in and out of the oven. A good sized cutting board served us for years before it finally broke and we broke down and got the peel. A baking stone is also a worthwhile investment. (Remember, pennies a serving!) If you're an exceedingly cheap bastard, as I once was, you can slide four 8"x 8" unglazed terra cotta tiles (~$1 apiece at Home Despot) together on your center oven rack. It gets to be kind of a pain after a while, scraping them clean and keeping them together. And they chip easily. YMMV.

So, here's what you do.

Put about 1 1/2 cups of lukewarm (~85 degrees F.) water in a big-ass measuring cup or mixing bowl. Stir in about 1 tablespoon of honey or sugar. (I like honey because it dissolves more easily and seems less processed--but that's just kooky, semi-crunchy me.) Then stir in two packets of yeast and let it sit until the yeast starts to foam up a bit, which usually takes about 10 minutes.

While the yeast is getting its sugar buzz on, combine the dry ingredients--4 cups of flour, and a tablespoon of salt--in the bowl of the mixer or food processor. Since we have a few minutes before the yeast solution is ready, here's a thought about flour: The higher the protien and gluten content, the better the dough and crust will be. I think that's right. If you're an accomplished (notice I didn't say 'master') baker, please feel free to square me away. In my experience, organic (natch) unbleached all-purpose white or bread flour seems to work best.

If you want more whole-wheat flavor, just substitute no more than one cup of whole-wheat flour for the all-purpose. Half a cup seems to be ideal. You might be tempted to use more, but you must resist this urge. Unless you like hard, chewy, non-elastic dough that, when baked, resembles pickup truck bedliner in texture and appearance. Ask me how I know.

I've also read recipes that recommend using 1 cup of cake or pastry flour. I've tried it a couple times with less-than-ideal results. I might try it again though. 'Cause, you know, what have I got to lose?

Okay, now fire up your mixing machine and slowly drizzle the yeast/water mixture into the flour. It should start setting up and begin to form a large, slightly sticky wad of dough. If you're one of those lucky bastards with a stand mixer, it'll probably form the dough into a lovely ball for you. The rest of us have to pull the wad out of the FP and form first into a ball, then a cylinder, which we divide in half and form into two smaller balls.

One thing I've found is that the longer you mix the dough, the more elastic it turns out. So, once the flour is thoroughly mixed with the water, let it go for another 30-60 seconds. And you know what? If it all goes pear-shaped, non c'e male--we're talking pennies a serving here, raggazzi.

Drizzle about a teaspoon of olive oil into a smallish mixing bowl/largeish soup bowl. Roll each dough ball around in the oil to lightly coat. Then cover the bowls with a damp paper towel or plastic wrap.

Wait a few hours.

Once the dough has risen and you're ready to roll it out, sprinkle a liberal sprinkling of flour on the work surface. (A countertop for poor schmucks like you and me; a butcherblock island top for you lucky bastards with your trophy kitchens.)

Also, now is the time to start pre-heating your oven. You want it as hot as it'll go, which on most home units is 550 degrees, F.

I actually prefer to roll mine out just a little, then finish it off by hand. (There's got to be a way to say that that doesn't sound like something you'd hear in a rest-area men's room).

The idea is basically that you want to stretch (rather than flatten) the dough unil it's the size and shape you want. And by stretching it, you get a little ridge of crust around the outside edge, which is nice.

Once you've shaped the dough into a relatively round crust, sprinkle some corn meal on your peel and transfer the crust to it. Give the peel a little shimmy-shake to make sure that the corn meal is keeping it from sticking. Repeat the shimmy test periodically while you're applying toppings. If it starts to stick, try lifting the edge of the dough and tossing a few more grains underneath.

Now you're ready for sauce and toppings.

Sauce can go one of two ways--red (the traditional tomato sauce) or white (garlic and olive oil with maybe some chili flake and/or dried herbs. Me, I've been opting more for the white lately, not least because it's easier and faster, and also because it doesn't soak into the dough like the tomato sauce.

I like part-skim mozzarella as the main cheese, which can be niceley alloyed with lots of other cheeses--pepper jack, provelone, etc., and occasionally punctuated with bits of goat cheese, crumbles of feta or gorgonzola (a little of which goes a long way, AMHIK), or dusted with Parmiggiano or Pecorino Romano.

As for toppings, there are three themes I come back to: Hawaiian (ham, pineapple, and onion), Amatriciana (pancetta [Italian bacon], fresh tomato, and onion), and SMORRP (sausage, mushroom, onion, roasted red pepper). Regular readers will no doubt be shocked to see that each of these features some form of the magical animal. Although sometimes I substitute lamb sausage on the last one.

Once it's topped, slide it off the peel and onto the baking stone. It should be ready in 8-10 minutes, or whenever the crust starts to turn golden-brown.

Pull it directly onto a good sized cutting board. If you like, brush a little olive oil around the edge.


Slice and serve with copious amounts of your favorite dago red.



Between bites, practice saying the following:
Ieri, non portrei ortografare "pizzaiolo"; oggi, lo sono!*

Buon appetito, amici!

*Yesterday, I couldn't spell "pizza-maker"; today I are one!

Brine that swine!

I love pork. In fact, I delight in all manifestations of the porcine muse: Pulled pork, smoked bacon, pancetta, chorizo, Canadian bacon, Italian sausage, speck, prosciutto, tasso. Basically, as the saying goes, I'll eat everything but the squeal.

What I don't love, however, is dry, tough, leathery pork. Which is all but impossible to avoid when dealing with leaner cuts like loin chops. Even tenderloin is easy to overcook.

So this weekend, I tried brining a couple chops and the results were sublime: succulent, juicy, fork-tender morsels. Even the man-cub, who's still cutting molars, absolutely devoured them. The only downside is the realization that all the frustration could have been avoided, but for a little salt*, sugar and water.

Basically, that's all brining is: a salt- and sugar-water solution in which, depending on its quantity and density, you soak a cut of meat for anywhere from a few hours to a couple days. I'd done it with turkey a couple times for holiday meals, but only recently did it occur to me to try it for more everyday dishes.

One dish we used to make a lot--at least weekly--is pork chops with apples and onions. It's a recipe I got from a Martha Stewart cookbook and made a few modifications. In fact, I had gotten so frustrated trying to get these to turn out tender but not raw, that I kind of gave up on it for awhile. After this weekend, though, it's back, baby. And honestly, I can't believe Martha would ever deign to eat anything so unyielding as an un-brined pork chop. I'm beginning to think maybe she didn't personally write every recipe in that book of hers. ;^)

Here's what I did. Give it a try and let me know how it turns out.

The basic brine formula is 1 tablespoon each of salt and sugar for each cup of water. You can swap out or add other things to it--maple syrup, apple cider, a bouquet garni, peppercorns, etc.--to impart whatever flavors you want. I just added some dried thyme.

Figure out how much water you're going to use, then heat up half of it just enough to dissolve the salt and sugar. Then add the rest of the water, your adjuncts and your meat. Voila--you're brining!

For two inch-thick chops, I did about 2 cups of water--just enough to cover the meat in a medium bowl. I left them in the brine for about 24 hours and that seems about right. Be advised that the longer it brines, the saltier it's going to be.

Pork Loin Chops with Apples and Onions (Serves 2.25)

2 boneless, center-cut pork loin chops (approx. 1/2 lb. each) brined (see above)
1 Apple, cored, quartered and thinly sliced. Leave the skin on. Or don't.
Half a large onion, thinly sliced.
Butter
1/2 cup white wine
1/2 tablespoon dried thyme
flour for dusting
Pepper


Dredge the chops in flour to coat; shake off any excess.

In a large sautee pan, melt 1/2 tablespoon of butter until it just begins to brown.

Brown chops in butter, about 3-4 minutes on each side. Remove to an oven-safe plate, cover with foil and, if you want, keep warm in oven.

Add a little more butter to pan if necessary. Sautee onions, apples and thyme with a good pinch of salt. When onions are translucent and begin to caramelize, add wine to deglaze and reduce over high heat, stirring occasionally, until almost completely evaporated. (If you didn't put the meat in the oven, put them back into the apple/onion mixture to warm through.)

Position chops on individual plates or a platter, spoon apple/onion mixture over top and serve. Garnish with thyme sprigs if you're into that sort of thing. (In other words, not the parent of an 18-month-old).

I like this with a nice crisp pinot grigio or a spicy gewurztraminer. Chardonnay, if it's not too oaky, would also be okay. Me, I'm more of an ABC guy (Anything But Chardonnay).

Dig in!

*Yes, I use kosher salt to brine pork. What can I tell you; I love the taste of irony.

Cheese, Gromit!

Or, more specifically for our purposes today, a terrific grating cheese from Argentina called Parmigiano Reggianito.

Any similarity to Italy's great Parmigiano Reggiano is purely intentional. Apparently, the cheese owes its existence to Italian migrant workers jonesing for a taste of home. These hungry ex-pats settled in Argentina, but left their hearts--or at least their palates--in Emilia-Romagna.

While it's tempting to dismiss the South American as a new-world knock-off, it's much closer in character to its namesake than to the insipid contents of a certain ubiquitous green-foil can.

In fact, the "little reggiano" is perfectly serviceable for grating on pasta and whipping into omelets. It lacks the original's complex, creamy granularity and aromatic, fruity bite. But at $7.99 per pound (vs. upwards of $18 for the real deal), it also spares you a bite to the wallet.

For me, the most happily ironic side effect is how it's put the big PR on a pedestal, where it belongs. Genuine Parmigiano Reggiano is far too grand and special to be grated and stirred into anything short of risotto ai tartufi neri. Take a bite next time you're grating up a batch for pasta, and try to tell me I'm wrong.

It's like the difference between a fine riserva Chianti classico, an '83 Badia a Coltibuono, say, and a declassified sangiovese. You'd never pour the former into a pot to make bolognese, but you reasonably expect the everyday stuff that you're cooking with to be palatable and worthwhile on its own.

And this little Argentine is certainly all that.