Chapter the Second - Do you want to be on top?

Every Wednesday I gather with a few friends for some food, some wine and great heaping helpings of sarcasm. The object of all this caustic, booze fueled wit is a little show I like to call, "America's Next Top Model" (drink!). So, yeah - it's reality TV about some crazy bitches all vying for the approval of Ms. Tyra Banks and her entourage of fey, sycophantic couture toadies. The show itself is everything you would expect - lots of screaming, lots of mean girl martial arts, LOTS of Tyra talking about how awesome she is, some dresses. The models themselves are all about high school senior age, not that bright and, as is required by the laws of nature and TV, batshit loony. We gather around, fortify ourselves with red wine and mercilessly mock, judge, critique, and generally rip the show apart. It's sort of like MST3K, but instead of Tor Johnson and "The Deadly Mantis", it's 17 Magazine's Ann Shoket (beautiful and deadly, one day I will face Ann Shoket in the arena on Battleworld, and on that day, not even my love will save her!) and a fashion show at the Secaucus Wal*Mart. Good times.

Originally, there was no food involved in this endeavor. It was purely a drinking game, the players required to drink whenever anyone said "America's Next Top Model" (drink!). This was all well and good until it came time for everyone to stagger to their cars and wend their way homeward. Not kosher. Now, some people might say the answer to this dilemma would be to drink less. To these people I shout something unintelligible before vomiting on their shoes and passing out. Drink less? Are you mad? Do you seriously expect a group of intelligent people to deal with reality TV sober? Of course not. We're not Shi'ites for crap's sake. No, the answer was, of course, to add another level of indulgence to the event. So, now, in addition to the Wagnerian quantities of wine, there is also a food theme.

Long story short, last night it was Mexican food, I made Black Bean Soup and some models did some stuff. The soup turned out great, very rich and stick to your ribs, due to the chorizo. It had a good heat, but not overpowering, I would pair it with a cold beer and at least a dozen of your snarkiest friends

Black Bean and Chorizo Soup

• 12 oz. chorizo - OK, so I got the straight from May-hee-ko (i.e. cheap) chorizo at Safeway which comes in a plastic tube and is the consistency of brownie batter. For this soup, you can really use any kind of smokey sausage, (kielbasa, linguica, andouille, etc.), either loose of cut into rounds.
  
• 1/2 white onion chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 rib of celery, chopped
• 1 carrot chopped
  
• 2 bell peppers - Red, Orange or yellow for interesting color and sweetness
• 1 jalapeno, chopped, if you want it hot, keep the seeds. If you don't get rid of the seeds. Regardless, after dealing with the seeds, WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS BEOFRE DOING ANYTHING ELSE. Ser'sly, y'all. I have a funny story that I sometimes tell involving a pepper that ends with the hero dangling his junk in a glass of milk.
• 2 tablespoons ground cumin
  
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• A pinch of ground chili powder - I like ancho for the smokey quality
  
• 3 cans of black beans
• 3 cups chicken stock

Garnishes

• Cotija - This is the Mexican equivalent of feta. It's salty and crumbly
• Lime, sliced
  
• Cilantro, chopped
• Sour cream
• Tortilla chips
  
• Hot sauce - For this, I like Tabasco over my usual favorite, Tapatillo. I like vinegary-ness of the Tabasco sauce

1. Heat a large soup pot or dutch oven on medium to medium high (depending on your stove). Add your sausage (either lose or in rounds or cubes or whatever). Render out some of the (delicious) fat and brown it well. No burning! Next, add the garlic and onion and sweat them for about five minutes. Add the bell celery, carrot, bell peppers and jalapeno. Give it all a good stir and let it cook for about five more minutes.
   
2. Toss in your cumin, chili powder and oregano. Give it a stir to combine. Add the black beans. Do not drain them, just empty the whole can right in the pot. Next, add the chicken stock. Bring it to a boil, stirring to scrape up any scrummy crusty bits off the bottom of the pot. Simmer for at least 15 minutes.
   
3. Using either a hand blender or a potato masher, puree or mash about 2/3rds of the soup. You want it to be smooth, mostly, but still with some whole beans and maybe some veggies. This is really up to you, make it as smooth/chunky as you want. Ladle into bowls, garnish as you see fit, accept your praise.

Photo by Q

Chapter The First - Pot Roast, Friends and the Perils of Gravity

It was last Thursday when an unlikely alignment of food, wine and schedules coalesced in my apartment. I had invited T. , K. and D. for dinner that day. The deal was that I had a bunch of stuff I needed to use up in my fridge and I wanted to share it. I decided to shove it all in a pot, stick it in the oven and put the results on noodles. We'd have some beers, eat the food, maybe play some video games. Nothing to write home about, really.

Like my dad says, though, it's better to be lucky than good. What originated as basically stone soup ended up being one of the best things I'd ever made. Ser'sly, y'all, this was the shiznit, the illmatic chronze. It was all homey and comforting, also sophisticated at the same time. This will make a great Sunday dinner as the weather turns colder. It's not a quick meal, but it is easy and the results are so far beyond what you think it's going to be, that by serving this, you will be worshiped as a god. The entire cost of this meal, including the wine needed will be about 30 bucks. If you wanted a vegetable with it, I'd do a dark leafy green, like kale or broccoli rabe.

• 1 4-5 lb chuck roast (I got mine at Safeway, on sale for about 4 bucks. This is a cheap tough piece of meat that requires slow cooking)
• Extra Virgin Olive Oil
• About 2 cups of beef stock
• Half a bottle of Barbaresco (I really and truly believe that a large portion of my good fortune with this meal comes from using this earthy wine, not often found in recipes. It'll run you about 10 bucks a Trader Joe's)
• 1/2 a shallot, minced
  
• 1 lb fresh pearl onions, peeled but whole
  
• 1/2 lb shiitake mushrooms, rough chop
• Fresh thyme
• Fresh parsley (Flatleaf! Always flatleaf!)
• 1 lb papardelle

1. Pre-heat your oven to 300 - 325 (depending on your oven's particular hot-itude). If you can, take the meat out early and let it get to room temp. Salt and pepper it. In a large pot or dutch oven or whatever, heat up some olive oil, about 2 tblspns, over medium heat. You do not need to get this supah hot. Brown the roast on all sides. Take your time with it. Get it all nice and brown and caramelized. This should take about 10 minutes. Remove it from the pot and put it aside.
   
2. Add your shallots and pearl onions to the pot. Turn the heat up a bit and brown them. Again, you're looking for that nice brown-not-black color. About 5 minutes or so. Don't let these onions burn, young Jedi! If the onions or the nice crusty bits on the bottom of your pan burn, you're screwed - your dish will taste like a Cajun urinal cake. Just saying. It's better to go lower heat and longer time than to try and do it quick and burn it.
   
3. Add your mushrooms and stir. Keep these guys going on the heat until they start to release their moisture. Add the wine and the stock. Bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer and put the roast back in the pot. Add the fresh thyme, about a heaping tablespoon or so. Use less if you've only got dried thyme.
   
4. Put the lid on your pot, stick the whole magilah in the oven and let it cook for about 3 - 3 1/2 hours. Take it out of the oven and let it rest on the stove top. In a large pot of salted water (Always cook pasta in salted water. About 1/2 as salty as the ocean), cook your papardelle. When it's done drain it and pour into a large bowl or, as I did, on a large, flat platter.
   
5. Take out your meat (hee hee!) and put it on a cutting board. It should basically be falling apart, so carving is more like shredding. Depending on how thick your meat is (hee hee!), you might end up with some slices as well as shredded. Put this meaty goodness on the pasta. Cover as much as you can. Spoon out the mushrooms and onions on top of that. Finally, pour the sauce all over your righteous pot roast creation. Sprinkle with chopped parsley, salt and pepper, serve family style.
   

The serendipity of this meal took everyone by storm, rendering some of us horizontal with it's silky, rich awesomeness. It's an easy throw-stuff-in-a-pot-and-walk-away kind of process that yields unreal results.

Try it out, let me know what happens.