Well played Madam, well played indeed.

Yesterday Rebecca Elson, the Publisher of The Magical Buffet, called me out. The literary gauntlet has been cast when she declared that her intended publishing cycling shall be more frequent than my own.

Very well then,  your challenge is accepted.

Sharpen your pencil, restock your ink, lay in new paper and make sure there is plenty of action remaining in your keyboard.

I shall write with the furious spirit of a poet scorned; my very fingers upon the keyboard possessed of the energy of a whirling dervish, cast out upon the literary landscape to go forth and do battle, wresting each word into it's place within the flowing prose of my culinary thoughts.

Oh yes, indeed, I shall write...perhaps even as often as four, nay, SIX times a month!

Credit for this drink goes to my good friend Thane. It's simple, but very, very tasty. Typically I enjoy this as an after dinner drink, but it's also a good "waiting at the bar for your table" drink.

Equal Parts:

Drambuie
Godiva Chocolate Liqueur

Topped off with a touch of Half and Half
Shaken in a Martini Shaker
Served on the rocks in a "Double Old-Fashioned Glass" (that's the short glass tumbler that you'd often get if you ordered something like a Jack and Coke).


Now, why did I name it Scottish Tea? Well, Drambuie is uniquely Scottish, and the final drink is the same color as Tea that has had milk added to it (as long as you didn't use too much half and half).

The flavor is excellent, chocolaty, spicy, rich, creamy...a great, situational drink.

Now, spread the news, spread the name and enjoy! Someday I want to go into a new bar, order a Scottish Tea and not have to explain what it is.

Last week I had the pleasure of dining at Spezia, in Omaha, NE.

While I was looking over my available choices from the menu, I kept coming back to the fact that I just did not want any of those things that night. Sure, they have some nice looking stuff on their menu, but DO NOT WANT!

So I asked myself, if I order something not on the menu, will they indulge me? You can't expect that service from just any restaurant. Large chains, including fast food restaurants and restaurants designed around good convenient food (Chili’s, Applebee’s, TGI Friday’s, etc.), often will only entertain mild substitutions.

But, this being a small, kind of local place...I thought they might hook me up. I looked around the menu to get an idea of what items were available on other dishes and to understand what may be handy in the kitchen to be tossed in my dish. I finally went with grilled chicken breast over fettucini with alfredo sauce, peas, crimini mushrooms and prosciutto.

Each person I was dining with paused at least once to look at my plate and ask me, “What did you order again? That looks great.” Why? Because my dinner was awesome.

I have no idea how far they'll go to indulge my special requests, but each time I go there, I think I'm going to refine this dish a bit more. Eventually, I want to find it on the menu! Pasta alla Grigorio indeed.

First, a confession. I'm a food blog snob. It's true, I am. I like my own blog so much, that I don't care for many others. Now, some people would say I'm conceited, but conceit is a fault and I don't really have any of those. (thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week).

It is worth noting though, that there are a few food blogs that I regularly read. And, thanks to my friends over at The Culinary Sherpas, I am now going to tackle my own Alfredo Sauce.

I will admit to being guilty of assuming that Alfredo Sauce was hard...and yes, there is a bottle of it sitting in my cabinet right now. But Mal Carne (yes, that means Bad Meat) over at The Culinary Sherpas has demystified it for me. So, I have some portabello stuffed breaded, baked ravioli in my freezer at home that might be getting a homemade Alfredo Sauce treatment soon.

I'm sure a few of you are saying...wait! What the hell? Frozen ravioli? Yeah, well bite me. I don't think my culinary adventures are quite ready to graduate from stir fries to rolling out my own pasta and making my own ravioli just yet, give me a month or two at least.

Also, I've had to work on a pretty tight budget as I get ready for my upcoming vacation. So I've been really enjoying my Bullard Beans for the last few days. I think next week, I'm going to remake them only Cajun style this time with Andouille Sausage and heck, maybe some chunks of blackened chicken? Who knows.

I also made a second Beef Stir Fry, better than the first. This time adding asparagus, snow peas and more Hoisin Sauce, as well as dried red pepper. It was excellent. And, I made rice to go with it. It was almost perfect (and will be next time), but hey, everyone knows the rice is the hard part...

As my last blog entry denotes, I recently had to start cooking for myself *shudder*. I have drawn on various inspirations throughout my life to help with this.

• Friends
• Family
• My Dad
• My past
• Laziness
• Being Cheap

...to name just a few.

In this case though, my Beef Stir-Fry was absolutely inspired by my friend Julia. Not only has she tempted and teased me with the descriptions of her own Stir-Fries, but when I came to her for advice she was quick to offer up some recommendations. Her first thought, I have to, have to, have to get Hoisin Sauce.

So, when I did my shopping the other day, I did indeed get Hoison sauce.

For my dinner, I started by dicing up 3 cloves of garlic and two small nubs of ginger. I added those to a bowl with a 13oz. ribeye that had been cut into bite size pieces. Into that bowl I added Rice Wine Vinegar, Soy Sauce, Sesame Oil, Hoison Sauce, Salt, Pepper and a dash of Worcestershire Sauce (don't ask me for amounts, I just put some in there until it looked like the right amount).

I set that aside to marinate for a half hour or so. Meanwhile, I chopped up 3/4 of a yellow onion, 1/2 of a red bell pepper, a whole orange bell pepper and half of a package of Shiitake Mushrooms.

Putting about 2 tablespoons of canola oil in the bottom of a Cast Iron Skillet, I let it heat until the oil was smoking. Then I threw in the veggies. Shortly after I added the meat. If I made a mistake it was washing the excess sauce out of the marinade bowl with water and dumping that in, it made the mixture a bit too wet. But that wasn't bad.

I tossed it around in the pan for about 10 minutes, letting most of that liquid boil off and in the end I was rewarded with a great Beef Stir-Fry. (Thanks Julia).

Yesterday afternoon and last night, I started along a path in my life upon which I had hoped not to start. I began a quest that may indeed prove to be my undoing. The entirety of my adult existence has been spent in a driving, continued effort to avoid just such an eventuality as this.

I spent the day pondering my options.
I prepared myself mentally and emotionally.
I checked and re-checked my resources and made plans accordingly.

Was I ready? No. Did I have a choice? Perhaps...but did I allow myself to seriously consider those possible choices. In truth, no. I was resolute. Unable to avoid this fate and this future any longer, I bit the bullet.

I entered...

The click-clack of shoes on the hard tile and squeak of poorly oiled wheels broken by the rhythmic thump of them bouncing on tile lines was a telling sign that I had stepped into a world new to me. Behind all of the other sounds the soft, steady 60Hz hum of fluorescent lights could be heard, hard at work casting their pallid, austere yet shadowless luminance upon the scene splayed out before me.

Along one wall, broken by labels, dotted with placards rested a virtual garden of green, punctuated with other, sharper, bright colors. The damp, cool air of the misting system drifted along the currents of processed, dehumidified air to lend a cool, wet texture to the artificial breeze.

I was in the produce section.
I was shopping for myself.
I would soon be cooking for myself.

KKKKHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

Treading water in the deep end of this new pool, I carted my groceries upstairs...alone. I put them away, each item in its respective place. I set about deciding what I would make first.

Slicing a 10oz. Filet into bite size pieces, I dusted that with salt, pepper and cumin. Chopped a half of a bell pepper and a quarter of a large yellow onion.

Adding Canola Oil to a skillet, I set it on max heat and let it heat until smoke rose off of the skillet. Adding my mixture, I tossed it gently while spreading tortilla chips on a tin foil covered baking tin.

Spooning my mixture of green pepper, onion and spiced tenderloin (cooked with a bit of Worcestershire throw in for good measure) onto my chips. I topped them with shredded Mexican four cheese blend and threw that under the preheated broiler.

I actually had the rack set one notch too high and over cooked the edges of my nachos, but they turned out great. And my cooking adventure was underway.

What shall I make tomorrow? Who knows, but I'll be cooking, I didn't leave myself enough money to eat out.

So...last night I ordered Thai food. I knew they weren't open for another 20 minutes, but I figured someone would answer the phone and I could put my order in early so I could pick it up sooner, since I was in the neighborhood. The only eventful thing about ordering was that I got the chef on the phone, not the owner/manager. So, we had a bit of a language barrier, but we worked through it.

"Pineapple...Curry...with Shrimp...10"

"10? You want Hot?!?"

"Yes, 10, very hot"

"10?"

"10"

"Pineapple Curry Shrimp very hot, 10, ok"

Now normally, the manager would just write that down, and we'd move on to my next item.

So yeah...apparently telling the manager 10 and telling the chef 10...two different things. My food was a delightful, masochistic experience. Aromatic coconut milk - red curry broth, with fresh Thai basil, lemongrass, bamboo, green peppers and giant Tiger Prawns. Oh...and a wee bit of pepper (omg, hot, hot).

All in all, great meal. If only I had access to a whole-milk bidet, life would be grand.

Surreptitiously, I cast my gaze around the dining room. Confident that everyone's attention, except that of my dinner partner, was directed elsewhere, I initiated project Breadcrumb, and dumped the plate of breadcrumbs on the fine linen table cloth.

The Setting: Morton's the Steakhouse in Downtown Dallas, TX
The Company: A lovely woman
The Mission: Have the use of a Butler Knife (or Crumber) demonstrated

Our evening started with the regal elegance one should expect of a Morton's. Good evening sir, may I take your coat ma'am, right this way please.

Our waiter introduced himself by first name and referred to me as Mr. Bullard (since that was on the reservation), until prompted to call me Greg. Studiously throughout the meal, he referred to each of us by name, respectfully and was very attentive to our needs.

Starting with a Smoky Martini (my favourite), featuring Ketel One Vodka and a splash of Highland Park 12 yr Single Malt, it was perfectly served up with a twist of lemon.

My dinner companion, I should add, was even more elegant in her lovely black dress and stockings than the dark wood tones and white linen of the restaurant itself, which is saying a lot, Morton's is beautifully appointed.

We shared an appetizer of large sea scallops, seared perfectly and wrapped in crisp, center cut bacon. The scallops were served with an Apricot Chutney, featuring just a touch of Horseradish.

Shortly after, we enjoyed slices of the soft, still warm, onion roll and fresh butter. Of course, the onion roll was the source of breadcrumbs for the clandestine, Point of No Return/La Femme Nikita Style side mission we would soon be on. As I pointed out that they have these little tools like a breadcrumb plow, that they'll use to clean the linen tablecloth with...then dumped some breadcrumbs to insure this happened (much to her amusement).

Having had some experience with Morton's, I knew that the famous hot chocolate cake should be ordered with the meal, as they don't cook it until you order it, so we did.

Speaking of the meal, I enjoyed the Double Cut Filet Mignon with Sauce Bernaise (medium, which in a USDA Prime steakhouse with steaks seared and finished in a VERY hot oven, is closer to medium rare). My dinner partner enjoyed the Filet Diane from the "slightly smaller" steaks portion of the menu. For sides, we shared the Jumbo Grilled Asparagus with Balsamic Glaze and the Creamed Spinach.

I cannot stress this enough...everything was perfect. Both of our steaks were prepared precisely as we desired and the soft, tender USDA Prime Filet melted on my tongue like butter. Sides were also perfectly done and a wonderful accompaniment to our meal.

The wine menu at Morton's is extensive and tends towards finer, more select wines. However, I was still impressed to find a 1995 Chateau Simard Bordeaux for only $95.00. Our waiter genuinely complimented me on finding one of the best values on their wine list.

Having eaten as much as we could manage, I couldn't help but notice that the breadcrumbs were still sitting where I had dumped them...mocking me. Had I forgotten (albeit unlikely), my partner's pithy remarks were a constant reminder of the breadcrumbs.

Still they stared at me, as plates were being cleared and our waiter ensured that everything was to our satisfaction.

But then!

As he cleared the plate containing the onion roll, much to my delight, the small tool came out and whisked around the bread sweeping up the crumbs, including those I had staged.

We both couldn't help laughing, and I asked the waiter if that device had a name. He informed us that in common parlance it was a crumber, but it had more traditionally been known as a Butler's Knife...and now, my dinner companion had seen one in action.

Dinner was completed with my favorite after dinner drink, equal parts Godiva Chocolate Liqueur and Drambuie, topped with half and half, shaken, served on the rocks in a highball glass. And of course, the Morton's Legendary Hot Chocolate Cake.

Topped with three raspberries (which I let her have, since they are her favourite) and dusted with powdered sugar. It is a warm, thick, chocolate cake...round, about the circumference of a small coffee can and about 3 inches tall. Once you cut into it, you see that the center is filled with a melted dark chocolate ganache.

Every bit of the meal from the regal surroundings, to the outstanding food and the beautiful company was simply perfect.

Oh...and I love it when a plan comes together. Butler's Knife indeed.

It's a chilly, fall Friday night in Texas. The marching band is playing in the background to the sound of the horns and the thump of the drums. The crowd is milling about the concession stand, the football players are in the locker room getting re-taped, rested and ready to take on the second half of the game.

You get to the front of the line and your options are simple. A dozen different candy bars, popcorn, nachos (with or without jalapenos), coke...and Frito Pie.

Now at this point, some of you have stopped to close your eyes, remember the smell of the freshly turned field, grass torn by cleats, overlaid with the smell of popcorn and the memory of fingers shoved in pockets to keep them warm against the cool night air.

Some of you are asking...what in the hell is Frito Pie?

To the first group, all I have to say is....Aww yeah! You're with me, aren't yah?

To the second group, you don't know what Frito Pie is? You poor, sad soul.

Take a rectangular boat shaped cardboad serving dish, take a bag of Frito's (just regular Frito's, not flavored, not scoops, not large Frito's, just regular Frito's) and open the bag along the side in the bottom of the dish. You can either leave them in the bag, with it open along it's side, or you can pour them out in the dish...there are two schools of thought, neither is wrong.

Over top the Frito's, pour fresh, hot chili. Now, try to make sure this is a decent, somewhat spicy but not volcanic chili. Ladle a healthy serving over the Frito's. On top of this add diced onion and shredded cheddar cheese (or hey, you can get melted Nacho Cheese also), to taste.

Serve with a white plastic spoon.

At first your Frito's will still be crunchy, but as you eat the ones in the middle will soften up and be all cheesy. Then you'll get one or two along the edge that are still half crispy, the rest chewy.

Make your way back to your seat, ice cold Coca~Cola in a Red & White, wax covered paper cup and Frito Pie in hand. Sit back down on that ohhhhhh too cold, aluminum bench.

Eat, drink, enjoy and wait for the second half of the game.

That's High School Football in Texas, that's Frito Pie.

So...when I started thinking about this entry, I had this great plan in mind. I was going to do an entry on my Three Favorite Sandwiches, across the U.S. I'd do a bit on each one, what makes it great, then move on to the next one until I had covered all three.

Now, to qualify, it had to just be a sandwich (not a burger) found somewhere in the U.S., and it could be included. But, I wanted the three to be from different parts of the country, so that was important. Also, since the U.S. is a great, big melting pot, I fully expected that the three sandwiches would represent some level of ethnic diversity, even while being considered...American.

So, here's my issue. I hit a road block at number three. I "know" of several sandwiches that might qualify, but I'd never had them before. Obviously I need too, but until then, my quest to write about three great American sandwiches, is going to be stopped at two.

First stop, the Poboy. However, not just any Poboy, the Roast Beef, Ham & Cheese Poboy from the Gator Stop in Morgan City, LA. I'd love to link you a photo, a website, some reviews, etc. But, they just don't exist. There's a Chevron Gas Station on the outskirts of Morgan City, LA named, the Gator Stop.

Inside this unassuming, very obviously a gas station, building, there is the smell of fresh baked French Bread as well as fried oysters, shrimp, roast beef, ham, etc. Slicing open this fresh baked french bread, they load it down with Roast Beef and Ham, top it with cheese, add some veggies and wrap it in butcher paper, then slice it in half, wrap it again and nuke it for 1.5 minutes. What comes out is this heavenly, dripping, melted cheese and au jus laden, god like sandwich.

Large enough that I can barely manage to eat a whole one, the real secret to the greatness of these Poboys is the french bread. Crusty and flaky on the outside, it is soft and buttery on the inside, and by the time you are eating it, has absorbed the juices from your Roast Beef, Ham and cheese. Each bite has tiny crumbs of bread falling to the butcher paper while the rest just melts in your mouth.

For these qualities, it has a worthy spot as one of my Three Great American Sandwiches.

Number two, in no particular order on my list of Three Great American Sandwiches, is The Roast Beef Deli Sandwich from Jerry's Famous Deli in South Beach (Miami, FL). The full size Roast Beef comes in just short of $15.00, and pushes north of that mark once you add Fries (gotta have fries or onion rings). And, it's a challenge to fit the thing in your mouth. Offering either rare or well done roast beef, there are numerous bread selections available too.

My choice? Regular size, rare, double baked crisp rye bread, with fries. Enjoyed best while on an outside table on a Friday night doing some South Beach people watching among friends, with a cold beer and a plate full of Deli Pickles, this really is an American Classic.

The roast beef is spiced wonderfully, and served up rare. The bread is crisp and flavourful. Simply wonderful, somewhat enormous.

Now...coming in at number three is? Hmm, well, I don't know. The Club sandwich at Kerbey Lane Cafe in Austin maybe, on Wheatberry Bread with Chipotle Mayo? The spicy italian Roast Beef sub at Marino's Pizza in Saratoga Springs, NY? The Philly Cheesesteak at Geno's Steaks in Philadelphia?

I think the best solution for this would be for me to visit Primanti's Brothers Restaurant in Pittsburgh, PA. Then I'd have a definitive choice for my third sandwich.

Donations now being accepted...