me: i like to cook. i like to cuss. i do both with great gusto every thursday night, as i take on a new recipe from my ever-expanding cookbook collection and attempt to bend it to my iron will. in between, look out for original recipes, restaurant reviews, food related musings and more. fucking A!
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Not actually on, near, under, or down by a boardwalk.
I’m going to tell you right now: this post? Is not really funny. Feel free to leave if that’s a problem, and we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming later this week.
As you can imagine, it’s been a bit of a rough weekend; I haven’t really felt like cooking, let alone photographing and describing my meals in detail. Funerals and their associated activities are always kinda rough, and I’m not nearly far enough in the mourning process for my own father not to have all that shit get dredged up, compounding things. Blargh.
I gotta tell you, the Orthodox Jews and their burial services? I to the N to the T-E-N-S-E. It’s so…biblical, with the actual rending of garments and the shoveling and the Hebrew and the phlegm. I’m emotionally drained just thinking about it.

Is everyone tired of pork yet? Not a rhetorical question.
We come now to the final installment of Smoke-a-Thon 2008, semi-classic North Carolina-style pulled pork with my in-demand potato salad as your special bonus with purchase. I’m not sure what I’m more tired of doing: eating pork, editing pictures of pork, looking at leftover pork or writing about pork, so I’m a little relieved that we’ve come to the last chapter.
Note, however, the bacon exception: I am not currently, and do not foresee ever being tired of eating, photographing or writing about bacon. I’m fairly certain that the bacon exception is a categorical imperative for all humankind except for freakish vegans who put tofu in their macaroni and cheese. Not than I am judging.

I don’t actually speak Spanish. Perhaps you’ve noticed.
Still very tired.
Can I write an entire post
using haiku? Sí.
Behold the raw pork:
Juicy, pink, fatty goodness.
Oh, salmonella trichinosis.

Pictures here courtesy of The Girl Who Ate Everything. Olives and cake courtesy of No Recipes. Meat coma courtesy of 60.21 pounds of pork.*
More pics and recipes coming when we recover from the aftermath. More pix after the jump.
*Which means: Evil Chef Mom, you win! Email me the address where I should send your prize. Everyone else: how big do you think my refrigerator is? You’re all nuts.
No really, guess. Closest without going over, Price is Right-style*, wins a copy of Mastering Barbecue by Steven Stines. Leave your answer in the comments anytime up until midnight this Sunday, May 25th.
The reason my fridge is laden with pork is that it’s almost time for our Second Annual Memorial Day Pork SmokeStravaganza, when we fill the apartment to bursting with people who in turn fill their gullets to bursting with pork (We do accommodate our veggie and kosher friends, we’re not heartless…but we use a separate grill so their vegetables don’t contaminate our pork).
I’ll be regaling you with tales and recipes from SmokeGate ‘08 all next week and answering your most pressing questions, such as: “Will someone top last year’s pulled pork five-sandwich record?,” “How many sleeping drunks can fit in a hammock?” and “How many hungover partygoers does it take to pay for the hammock they broke while drunk on baby back ribs and homebrew?” Until then, if you’d like to plan your own Porktoberfest, here’s a round-up of pulled pork from around the foodblogosphere
*My cousin Pam won an RV and a trip to China in the Showcase Showdown in the mid-80s. Also, don’t forget to spay and neuter your pets, or the disembodied head of Bob Barker will haunt your dreams. Or so I’ve heard; I’m not leaving that one to chance.
(Cute piggy pic from Lenndevours.)

Happy Ribtoberfest, everyone!
I know it’s not October, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be Ribtober. If it were up to me, we’d also have Ribtember and Ribril*, so it’s probably a good thing for all of us that it’s not up to me.
Tonight’s ribs come to use thanks to The Food of Thailand: A Journey for Food Lovers a book about authentic Thai street food and home cooking written by three Brits. They (the ribs, not the Brits) are accompanied by sweet corn cakes, cucumber salad and a decidedly non-Thai but outstanding bottle of Saison (a crisp summer Belgian ale).
*Doesn’t that sound like a pharmaceutical? “Ribril is not for everyone. If you are pregnant or may become pregnant, talk to your doctor before starting Ribril. Side effects may include nausea, dry mouth, uncontrollable palm sweat, male pattern baldness and Scurvy.”

What do you mean, that’s not how the saying goes? Fuck you.
You know how sometimes you come home after a long, tiring day sitting in front of a computer and stapling various pieces of paper to other pieces of paper, and you want a satisfying meal that won’t take very long? Usually when that happens I order in some lamb shawarma, because who wants to cook when they’re fucking tired? I had to collate things today, and I walked to the water cooler twice. But sometimes, I decide to throw some crap in a pot and see if I can make a go of it myself, and the result ends up being a tasty, easy, quick meal that instantly becomes part of the weekday repertoire.
Of course, sometimes it ends up being an inedible pot of shit and I have to order shawarma anyway. But this is not one of those times, I promise.

I wanted to attend my own party - surely, you will not begrudge me that? - so this is the only picture of pork I took.
I’m tired from a long day of cooking, Scrabbling and eating, but didn’t want to leave those of you eagerly awaiting the second installment of Cliffhanger: Pork on the edges of your respective seats any longer than necessary.
So: see above. It was really fucking good. I give this pork an A+, and would gladly do business with it again.
And now, to sleep, perchance to dream…of pork. May we all dream of pork this night!

The other white meat, except it’s pink, and it bled all over my refrigerator like a stuck pig. Which I guess makes sense, because it’s, you know, pork.
I know, I know, giant hunks of raw animal flesh above the fold two posts in a row. Suck it up.
You probably already have a sense of how very fun I am from reading me: very, very fun. Just how fun am I? I’m hosting a Scrabble tournament - slash - taco buffet this weekend. You heard me, Scrabble tournament. If you have something to say about that I suggest you don’t, because Scrabble fucking RULES. F-U-C-K-I-N-G = 17 points + 50 point bonus for using all seven letters, take that, muthafucka.