Nanny Goats in Panties Rotating Header Image

June, 2012:

How to Boil an Egg (Not)

Jun 25th, 2012
by Margaret.
66 comments

Hello, and welcome to another edition of The Accident Prone Gourmet, the cooking show that slices, dices and stirs in a few mices.

Today we are going to tell you how to make hard boiled eggs.

First, gently place eggs in a small pot. Gently cover with water and bring to a boil. Then gently turn off the stove, put a lid on it, and sit and stare at the pot for 20 minutes. And voila! That’s all there should be to it, right?

No. Apparently, there is more to it than that, because…

egg, hard boiled egg, exploded egg

Also? Does that look like the Virgin Mary trying to burst out of that egg to you?

Anyway, can someone please tell me how the heck to make a hard boiled egg? If they aren’t bursting at the seams, they’ve got that grey-ish blue-ish ick-ish look outside the yolk. What is that? Is it blue slime? Is it grey slime? Is it poisonous? Can I still eat it when it does that?

I tried giving up and buying already hard-boiled already peeled eggs (Eggland’s Best) at the grocery store which was awesome. Once. Because ever since I made this incredible discovery (actually, my blogger friend Nichole told me about them) they haven’t carried them since.

It’s because the whole world is out to destroy me. Or maybe because the eggs were too yolk-heavy…

Man, that would have been one fat chick.

 

 

UPDATE: So of course immediately after I say out loud that I can’t find Eggland’s Best already cooked already peeled eggs, I find them at Raley’s today (like, 2 hours after this post went up). I swear they didn’t have them the last four times I went - I even ASKED them about it. Obviously, they read my blog post, went back in time, ordered some eggs and stocked the shelves. Children, pets, and grocery stores: they make liars out of you every time.

 

Goat Thing: Goats are Go. And Dinner, Apparently.

Jun 19th, 2012
by Margaret.
5 comments

Hey you know what? It’s been a while since we had a goat thing. Let’s have one now.

Tayet’s blog, In a Goat’s Shoes, has a new header:

 

Meanwhile over in Tanzania (that’s in Africa for the geographically challenged) people are getting excited about the annual Dar es Salaam Charity Goat Races.

Thanks for the heads up, Barbara of Tanzania 5.0

Goats in the News

Meanwhile, goats are the new black among U.S. chefs. A recent Wall Street Journal article, Get Your Goat On says, “See for yourself why everybody’s new favorite meat has two horns and a goatee.”

How Do You Take Your Coffee?

Jun 11th, 2012
by Margaret.
56 comments

cup of coffee, coffee with cream, coffee preferences

I like my coffee like I like my men. Hot, steamy and French-pressed. Or something like that.

If I’m honest, however, I like cream in my coffee. It has to have cream. Real cream. Not that powdery crap you take camping with you. And not milk.

Cream. The stuff at the top.

There’s a reason why they say the “cream of the crop” and not the “nonfat milk of the crop”.

The problem is, I don’t know how to avoid sounding like a total snob when I’m a guest at someone’s house and after dinner, the host asks, “Who wants coffee?” Because I want coffee. But only if they have cream.

Too many times, I have been devastated after saying yes to coffee only to find out there was no cream and now I have to force down hot, black, bitter, yucky (also how I like my men) coffee.

Then I graduated to meekly asking if they had cream. They would say yes and it turned out not to be cream. It was milk. Or worse…it was nonfat milk.

Nonfat?

NONFAT?

Nonfat milk is like iceberg lettuce to me. It’s pointless and offers no real value. Nonfat milk makes things taste like less than what they are. Coffee tastes less with nonfat virtually transparent grey milk. Why not save yourself the money and add water to your coffee?

I grew up with water nonfat milk on my cereal. My chocolate frosted sugar bomb cereal. Which is like ordering two double-cheeseburgers, a super big-ass order of french fries… and a Diet Coke. But I was a kid and didn’t know better. My tastes buds never had the pleasure of whole milk until college and my gawd, I thought it tasted like syrupy white cream.

I would have taken whole milk in my coffee back then. But I didn’t drink coffee back then. This was before the days of Starbucks, so about a hundred years ago.

But now when I go to Starbucks or Peet’s or Coffee Bean (another reason Sacramento sucks - they have no Coffee Bean - I should start a Facebook page movement for that) I must always specify WHOLE milk for my latte because most of the silly people they call “customers” are insane and want watery milk in their coffee. Starbucks’ default milk is 2% if you don’t tell them that you want milk THE WAY GOD INTENDED. Peet’s claims they use whole milk by default, but again, I don’t trust them so I always say, “Yes, I’d like a small latte with milk the way God intended, please. And fourteen doughnuts, please. No, I don’t need a bag. Why would I need a bag? Yes, that’s for here. Why wouldn’t that be for here? No I’m not with anyone, what’s with all the questions?”

By the way, you do know whole milk has fewer carbs than nonfat milk, right?

So anyway, back to the house where the host has asked us if we want coffee. I feel like a pompous assy guest asking if they have cream because if they say yes, I won’t believe them and I’ll want to further ask if it’s REAL cream. Half and half cream. The white stuff, not the translucent stuff.

I’m like George Costanza’s mother who doesn’t understand people who don’t serve pound cake after dinner. Who doesn’t have dessert for their guests?

And who doesn’t have cream for coffee?

So what has to happen for me to ensure I’m going to get cream in my coffee….THIS?:

Creme de la Creme, a play in one act. (Act 1 Scene 1):

We’re in a warmly decorated home dining room with browns and oranges and harvest-themed decorations like those cornicopia things on the side tables. Bellies are satisfied and full. The smell of turkey and brown-sugared sweet potato casserole still lingers in the air.

My gracious host who has welcomed me into his or her home and served me a delicious meal: Who wants coffee?

Ungrateful me: Do you have cream?

My gracious host: Yes.

Rude as all get out me: Can I look at it?

My ever-so-gracious host: Errrr….

Pompous assy me: That’s okay, I’ll just check your fridge. It’s in the fridge, right? ‘Cause it’s cream, not the powdery stuff you take camping with you, right?

I mean, who does that?

Is there a nice way to find out, or do I just forego my after dinner treat altogether? Do I presumptuously bring my own cream? Because I really really really want that coffee.

 

(image source: Wikimedia Commons)

Crawling Through Downtown Napa

Jun 5th, 2012
by Margaret.
16 comments

You know that high-piercing banshee scream that happens whenever it starts to rain? You know, when it’s a quiet still night and you’re lying in your own vomit on the kitchen floor at 3am on a Wednesday morning and the dog is staring at you through the sliding glass door wanting to come in already because he relieved himself three hours ago and the first drip-drips of rain begin to fall on his matted fur and he whines because he hates getting wet and you’re dead to the world and he whines some more until he thinks you’ve actually died and he lets out a horrible screeching fire-engine yowl?

I hate that noise, don’t you?

So, being the painfully famous blogger that I am (in my house, anyway), I get invited to a lot of swanky high-class events. For example, last week I attended a culinary crawl in Downtown Napa, courtesy of Erika Bjork over at Augustine Ideas. And I dragged my blogger pal, Amy, of Limit Reached to crawl with me.

I didn’t even know Napa had a Downtown, did you? But they do, and it’s cute, and they’ve got something like 80 restaurants and 20 wine tasting rooms.

Here we are at Grace’s Table, kicking off Happy Hour with the limo parked out front.

Too bad it wasn’t ours.

We bellied up to the bar and I ordered a very yummy Strawberry Orange Martini.

Strawberry Orange Margarita at Grace's Table

And I tried not to throw it down too fast because it tasted like fruit punch and I didn’t want to fall down at the very first place we hit. I also have a strict personal policy of waiting at least until the sun goes down before I’m found on the floor. I have SOME class.

The theme for the crawl was “Farm to Fresh”, so lots of local sourced food passed over our tongues. Like this horribly delicious fried artichoke and cornbread appetizer…

and this beet crostini…

beet crostini, graces table, napa

I don’t believe there were beets in that because I hate beets. At least I think I do. Also? This dish does not meet the qualifications of the “Farm to Fresh” theme because everyone knows beets don’t come from a farm. The beets I grew up on were purple-ish red, shaped like super-thick Ruffles potato chips and came out of a can. I can’t believe they tried to pull one over on me with this beet crostini, no matter how awesomely delicious it was.

We walked over to Mason Cellars and tasted wine, while noshing on a huge meat platter from the Fatted Calf.

Tasting wine at Mason Cellars. How cool is that door?

OK, so about the meat platter. I have to ask you something.

You see this?

Now, do you see that blob o’ meat wrapped in what looks like raw bacon? Wouldn’t you think that would be some kind of spread or something to put on the chips? Like a pate or something?

So what do I do? I pick up a chip and try to “dip” it in the “spread”.

Mystery blob o' meat from the Fatted Calf (although the rest of the cuts were very tasty).

And I got nothin’. My chip broke off. So, my little Charcuterie experts, what was I supposed to do with that? There was no silverware to be found. Do you pick it up and take a big ol’ chomp out of it like an apple? What?

Anyway, the wine tasting was fun and the guy at Mason was very nice and while I’m not a white wine person, I kind of liked a couple of the whites. Speaking of which, I accidentally told the guy standing next to me that I was “not a white person”, at which point I replayed what I said inside my head and turned a fabulous shade of crimson and did I mention that Mason Cellars is one of the few places in Napa that doesn’t charge for wine tasting?

Moving on…

We went into the Oxbow Market where we were served delicious crepes from La Crepe! While they do make savory crepes they gave us sweet ones like raspberry, and banana and hellloooooo Nutella!

The Oxbow Market is one of those indoor dealie-bobbers like the one at the Ferry Building in San Francisco or the Chelsea Market in Manhattan, only not nearly as big as those guys.

oxbow market, napa

The Oxbow Market in downtown Napa

 

It might be smaller than those other guys, but do those other guys have flying goats??

oxbow market, goat

I’ll answer that. No. No, they don’t.

We wrapped up our evening at Eiko’s, a sort of Japanese restaurant, night clubby place with comfortable couch-like furniture in the bar area. They brought out margarita popsicles and served us fried shrimp tempura and California rolls.

Photo by Amy of Limit Reached

The shrimp reminded me of a similar dish they serve at Nobu in NYC, or Buddha’s Belly in L.A. Ohhh, look at me, getting all worldly on you, referencing such Big City restaurants.

I’m totally going back to Downtown Napa. Not only is it a great place to walk around with some old buildings like the former library…

..but they have one of my favorite visitor incentives of all…

Free parking. As in free. As in available spots in public lots.

God, I love free parking. If I were King, I would grant every man, woman and child free parking.

(By the way if you ever want to do a culinary crawl, check out the Napa Downtown Events page. The next crawl is June 26.)

Another “by the way”, for those of you who were wondering… All that vote groveling I did for the KCRA A List? I got 2nd place out of 98 nominees. So THANK YOU very much for helping me almost win! Yay!

Related Posts with Thumbnails