Eating Out A Peck Of Penis Peppers

As we’re swaying into July, I’ve been catching up on my well procrastinated gardening. And what do I find? But this wee pornographic pepper showing it’s veiny erectness to the unimpressed world. I’ve had some worries that I wouldn’t get any fruit on the Peter Pepper plants this year due to late repotting and blossoms dying off. But it looks like we’ll get at least one naughty pepper of hilarity for our labors. And from what I can tell, pepper plants can be overwintered and produce year after year.

So let’s see how the rest of the garden is doing. I’ve been eyeing my first Cherokee purple tomato that has been coloring up nicely. I got these not only because of the name giving the nod to a small portion of my genetics, but also because it’s a common opinion that they have one of the nicest tomato flavors around. So, I figure a couple of these added to my spaghetti recipe will take good all the way to great.

Speaking of my spaghetti, after our trip to Sam’s Deli, I discovered the wonder that is San Marzano tomatoes. And much to my delight, at the beginning of the planting season, I found out that their seeds were pretty easy to find and quite inexpensive. So, I set up some of these bad boys to germinate and discovered that my sowing skills suck ass. Not only were they completely on top of each other, but due to a lack of funding for the tons of soil and containers I didn’t plan well for, they pretty much stayed that way until they were setting fruit. So it was barely last night I sat out at 3am (better to replant when it’s cool) and attempted to extract and separate them to be repotted as best I could without absolutely shredding their roots.

We’ve got some fruit on ‘em and they look healthy enough, just very tiny. They’re something akin to super giant grape tomatoes. But hopefully with another good 6 inches of soil to send out some roots to, they’ll be able to rebound and get some decent production by August. Or at the very least, survive my ham handed treatment of the poor tender young things in a dark yard abutting an alley.

Besides the porno peppers, I actually opted for a couple, more standard varieties. We picked up a standard Italian pepper that is throwing out some impressive sized pods considering how short the plant is. There’s the rather fruitful Fresno chili plant, whose peppers are turning an interesting red-orange. The first couple green ones I tried from it weren’t spicy at all, so I’m hoping these mature pods will pack some more heat. Especially since I’ve had it rubbing shoulders with my Habanero plant! I’m told if milder peppers are planted near much hotter ones, they’ll take on characteristics of the other’s heat profile. No blossoms have stuck yet on this heat monster just yet. I’m hoping and praying I can get a handful to make an attempt at homemade salsa.

From there we’ve got our Okra seedlings growing up big and strong for a late summer crop. Our 2 year old strawberry plant valiantly clutching to the walls of it’s broken bottomed pot. Our hopeful lavender transplants, the saddest old catnip plant (local hooligan kittens got into it) and a handful of attempts at growing some purty flowers up from seed.

But most importantly to a city cook, the herb garden. It was herbs that got me back into shoving dirt and green things into pots and arrogantly demanding that they provide me with their bodies and their children that I might better enjoy my seared animal flesh. I think I started again with a basil plant I picked up at Trader Joe’s. It’s since died and been replaced, but the chives I got that year have expanded so much that they’ve taken over two large pots and kick out more onion grass than any 5 people could use. Plus I started a bunch of others from seed. Like oregano, thyme, marjoram, sage and some other crap that I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t remember and don’t really recognize. But I figure once it grows up, I’ll give it a taste and we’ll see then.

If you’re out there with some chicken poo under your nails and the odor of macerated fish guts rising from your watering can, I salute you! It’s such a relaxing and enjoyable past time. And there’s nothing quite so self gratifying than eating something that you grew from seed to plate. Well…I can think of one or two more acts of self gratification that might trump that. But it’s damn close. Here’s hoping your fruits are fat and your pests are few!

-Pook

Eating Out A Show Diary #1

Dear diary,

I really dig this whole TV thing. So far I’ve been able to knock out 2 recipes with only minimal difficulties. Although deciding to add the garlic at the beginning of cooking was a rather boneheaded move and I should have known better. But oh well, the chicken was done all the way through and still pretty moist. And this time I managed to make enough so that all of the crew got to have a taste as well.

Plus I got to meet Peter Moredyk, a fascinating ukulele impresario and probably one of the nicest guys I’ve met all year. Not only does he play and sing quite sweetly, reminiscent of a Tolkien ballad on a desert isle while sipping rum drinks, but he’s also a well travelled and interesting fellow. Originally hailing from South Africa, he has travelled quite a large portion of the planet and has sampled cuisines from all over. The only living man I know who has consumed the dreaded bhut jalokia peppers of India and could brag about the experience. (This man puts cayenne on his breakfast cereal!) I can’t wait to get out and see him perform live.

There was also Chuckle’s co-host for the day Amy Kohl. She’s a transplant to Fresno from the terrifying backwoods of upstate New York. But much more than that, she’s a local artist who, not only sculpts metal but is a fair hand with ink and graphite. I always feel a wee bit of farm-boy shame whenever I meet someone who can weld, since Pop never let me do much more than operate a cutting torch. But I also feel like I’m all thumbs around visual artists as well. So a welding artist pretty much makes me feel like a hack. But she brought me back from the brink by being a really sweet and genuine person. The oddest part about TV so far is how much the conversations will extend into the commercial breaks. Oftentimes one of their plucky techs will have to urgently remind us that we’re going back on the air so we can reset and be ready for another entertaining topic.

And what can I say about the great and powerful Chuck Leonard that hasn’t already been added to the Library of Congress? Considering I ditched Mr. Steven’s Radio/TV class after the first two weeks, Chuck makes doing and understanding TV extremely easy. He and all of the Central Valley Talk family make me feel really welcome and go the extra mile to help me not look like a fool. And trust me, that’s no small task!

To top off a fabulous day, after the show, Chuck took me over to see the Tower Community Garden. Truly, I have to say that I’m very impressed. From the mulch pile where they gather green waste from restaurants and mix it together on site, to the worm box for raising soil enriching wriggly beasts, to the amazing collection of plants and flowers lovingly laid out in their raised beds and in the serenity garden. Yup, there’s even a serenity garden to enjoy. 300 steps lead around in a tightening spiral where you stroll past a parade of color and smells. I’m hands down impressed. There’s a nice block of tomatoes set up, as well as squash, brussel sprouts, strawberries, various peppers, pumpkins and a ton of other items that I’m still learning how to identify on the fly.

I’ve got to say that I found the garden to be incredibly inspirational. Especially because, as I understand it, there is no central authority guiding it’s care. Rather, it’s the community of the Tower District that brought out the plants, tends the soil, weeds the beds and in general keeps a tidier garden than I do in my own back yard. And the young folks beating the heat in the shade as they listened to a friend belt out some tunes on his guitar provided some pleasant ambience as we walked the paths and admired the beauty that kindness and community can bring out.

Not a bad day at all. Let’s hope that next Tuesday is just as cool if not a little bit cooler.


-Pook

Eating Out A Landmark

Actually, THE Landmark. You see, after we didn’t totally screw up during the premier of the Cooking With Pook segment on Central Valley Buzz! 4-6pm weekdays on channel 33.1 and webcast, (Like that artfully rammed in plug? Thought you would.) so we felt that we deserved a bit of a victory dance after our premier and dropped in for a bite. More about the mighty ‘Mark later.

Let’s talk about MEEEE! Oh my god! I cooked on TV! And it was a ton of fun! I got to make my pasta carbonara recipe. And you know that old saying about watched pots and boiling water? Multiply that by 10,000 when you’re doing your best not to look like a complete ass on TV! Oh my god, it took that pot of water damn near an hour to go from tap to boiling. But beyond that, it was all smoothies. The pancetta rendered nicely, the sauce came out an acceptable texture, the pasta wasn’t too bad. And it looked ok. Creamy pasta isn’t exactly going to jump off of your screen in brilliant HD. My real boner though, was off-camera. I didn’t make enough for the crew! There’s a small army of hungry interns who are looking to jump me. Lesson: bring more next week. Look maw! I is on the Tee Vee!

And on to dinner. We took a wander around the Tower after the show, so that I might annoy any who would hold still, with tales of my nouveau célébrité. After having my inflated head booted out of a few living rooms, the hunger was upon us. First I thought about the take out pizzas over at Karch’s, since I could also get it home to the camera I left there. But alas, it was after 9pm. So we settled on the all night happy hour at the Landmark and a sad lack of food pics.

I’m actually at The Landmark quite a bit. So I found it a little strange that this is the first time that it occurred to me to review more than a couple plates of appetizers during the Rogue. It’s really a very nice Basque restaurant, with a medium sized back patio that they lovingly heat in the winter and have misters up to help beat down the raging Fresno summers. Their back dining room is fairly large and nicely appointed. And most importantly, even if it’s raging at the bar and on the patio, you can still hear yourself think while you’re eating in the dining room. A big plus when the restaurant is also a popular night spot. And rather than clear out the tables for a dance floor, the kitchen stays open late so drinky pants can get their grub on and level out their buzz.

Menu stuff! And a gin and tonic, please. They’ve got a pretty wide menu, Basque style seafood dishes, lamb, beef, frogses. Even the terrifying escargots of snailness. But the spouse lady was down for some clamsian goodness for the appetizer. So, I chose the scalone, an apparent fusion of scallops and abalone (which I’ve never before seen on a menu for under $40), egg dipped and fried, similar to a calamari steak for my entree. The lady chose the shrimp scampi and we both went for the pasta alfredo as our side.

Their clams were pretty good. Only a couple were sporting the hated clam-sand-poop. Nothing sets you back as you’re mentally getting over the concept that you’re eating an entire animal, poop chute and all, than a nice, crown-damaging crunch to remind you that there’s an artfully stewed turd in that chewy little fellow. Doesn’t mean I didn’t finish ‘em and then dip some of their garlic bread in the butter, white wine, shallot and poop broth. Mmmmmm. And if you think that’s a little too gross, I’ll tell you a few tales of the dark side of sausages! To know what worcestershire sauce really is will make you faint dead away.

The salads were ok. Not much in the greens to get too excited about. My bleu cheese was fairly mild. Although the pickled beets on top were a fun touch that harkens back to the fancy salads of my youth, like the Lime Lite’s. Overall it wasn’t going to sink or float anything on it’s own. So we move on to our entrees. Both were hot and seemed to be fresh from the kitchen. There was a small delay, since our server was also handling the madhouse of the patio, so I was a bit worried. But he seemed to be well in synch with the kitchen and got our plates out within their tastiness tolerances.

I really liked the scalone! It was 3 medium sized, egg dipped and fried patties. Very similar to a calamari steak. But it’s all the difference when you bite into them. There is a much lighter texture than you get with squid, or even with scallops alone. And I finally understand the abalone obsession. When handled properly, they’re extremely tender and sweet. Absolutely perfect on their own, it’d be a sin to even add a squirt of lemon. Now I must find an abalone festival, that I might sate this heretofore unknown need.

The alfredo was fairly meh. It was certainly better than Lipton’s. But I think I may have had overly engorged standards by that point considering I had lunched on carbonara, destroyed the clam appetizer and already sampled the scalone. I was reaching the Danger-Full level. The clams had also done their damage to the spouse. But she bravely trooped her way through her shrimp scampi. I got a taste and really liked the flavor. Nice sized butterflied shrimp in a tasty garlic butter sauce with something new. Mushrooms. It makes complete sense now that I think of it, but they had to show me the truth of it. The shrimp themselves were a wee bit overcooked, but didn’t detract too much from the dish. Overall, we were really happy with dinner and our service. Not for the first time and most certainly not the last.

So, we’ve got ourselves a bit of a Tuesday spot on an awesome local TV station! I feel like I’m finally living out my dream of being a character in Weird Al’s movie “UHF”. I hope I get to jump out of a closet in a Channel 30 office and yell “Supplies!” while attacking their hired goons with mops during a clandestine mission to rescue Chuck’s abducted janitor, who will later go on to say some very regrettable things on stage in LA. With that fantasy in my head and a belly full of new and interesting seafood, I gotta say. Damn, it feels good to be a blogga!


-Pook