New Grill, New Endeavors.

I usually make my hamburgers in a pan with a half a stick of butter (quote Paula Deen), though for Memorial Day, we had family over and we had a new grill. I decided that I would use the grill for making the burgers with the same recipe and the same ingredients as usual but I'm not used to cooking on the grill. I would say my recipe on here but only a select group actually know it and I think that I'm going to keep it confidential.

It was the best barbeque that I have ever had, because, I was cooking the food and I made sure that everything was done with care and quality. My menu was simple and it consisted of my famous burgers, simply done hot dogs, and sweet potato fries. You would think that this is simple; and you would be right. However, there were certain events that made this event get to the blog.

First of all, as I mentioned, it was a new grill that we just bought yesterday and haven't hooked the propane up to until today. That can lead to a whole bunch of problems, such as, BOOM! and the whole house falls down... Luckily I have the common sense to check if the gas is leaking or not and I did. It took about a half hour to figure it out and people were hungry. First, my father and I hooked it up and turned on the gas. We heard a sound. So we tried again about three times. Then, we read the instructions, and that said to pour soapy water on it to see if the gas makes it bubble. We did what it said. No bubbling, though we could still smell the propane. We eventually decided to try to ignite the grill after about 45 minutes... No fire, no explosion. Then we realized we needed to turn the ignition on.

I never realized how fast cooking on a grill goes by because of the high heat and I was scrambling all over the place to keep the temperature down, make sure nothing got burned, etc. I forgot to mention that I got requests for three different donenesses (how done the meat is): medium rare, medium and very well done. All of this for a first time griller. Then I needed to fry the fries, which wasn't that hard to do and I just left the hot dogs there and I threw them in the deep fryer to finish them (yeah, yeah, gross; it just makes it more crispy and gives it a bite).

It was a pain, though, my pain was rewarded with my wonderful cooking. I don't even know how I managed to do it, though all that I know is that this had been a blog-worthy Memorial Day experience. Certainly new and strange...

Game Time

I was just thinking about the first time that I had rabbit in a dish before. It was almost kind of a sadistic thing because it wanted to do that to bother my cousin who is obsessed with bunnies (yes, the one girl). That was many years ago and I happened to love it. Rabbit opened up many doors to me in the world of game meats because people don't generally understand how good they can be. I soon after got into duck, venison (deer), and many others.

Game is a good taste to have acquired when traveling to places such as Europe. Once you get used to the taste, you almost can get obsessed with it, and kind of find a liking for more fancy foods. I have to say, it's a great alternative to ordering steak all of the time, which I do. Now when I see something like Fois Gras on the menu, I jump for that. This brings me into my next story about Paris that doesn't exactly have to do with me.

I remember distinctly I took a trip to France once, and don't get me wrong, it was a great trip and I got to eat in some of the leading restaurants in Paris. It was, though just at the time, I was not so acquainted with some of the types of food that France had to offer. The French have quite a variety of different types of poultry which include: chicken (surprise, surprise), squab (pigeon), pheasant, and quail. There are probably many more that I don't know about there even now, but you've got the idea. It wasn't that I was afraid to eat these, it's just that I was young and didn't have any interest in the food at the time.

I was travelling with my mother and my grandfather and with his vast knowledge of both medicine and history, he managed to tell me this very brief story about Napoleon Bonaparte, when he was a young, and poor child (true story).

"As a boy, Napoleon had grown up quite poor, and his mother was frail and they needed to find a way to get food somehow. There was no way that they could afford to buy any kind of meat, let alone bread, which they could barely afford. Being the quick thinker that Napoleon was, he went out into the park in Paris as a teenager, which had been loaded with pigeons, and brought with him a baby carriage. He lured pigeons near him with bread crumbs and when they came near, he snapped their necks and threw them in the carriage for dinner." That supposedly is how the Parisians came to start eating pigeons as a tradition when Napoleon became emperor.

So go out and get yourself some roasted squab, I'm eating it, it can't be bad (it's actually healthier than chicken).

Mountain Climbing for Dinner

I went to IHOP this morning because I had a gift card and a day off and I was considering what to post tonight as I was eating and the pancakes were only that much when drowned in strawberry syrup (which does taste pretty good). However, it seemed a little boring to tell you a story of how I got $25 dollars towards my next breakfast at a charity event... I thought of another past story though which is a little odd, though this time, instead of ordinary junk food like my previous posts, it is very, very, high quality Italian food, in Italy.

On a trip that I took to the very mountainous and beautiful Amalfi Coast last summer with my parents and my grandparents, we were not short one day of a good meal, and after a day of finding that my grandfather was suffering from anemia (thank God that he's a doctor himself), we had reservations in a hidden restaurant in Ravello, one of the highest places above the sea on that coastline, called Villa Maria. After taking a short drive there from our hotel, it was too our disdain that the directions unfortunately took us up some very, very steep streets. Without exaggeration, it took us about 20 minutes to get halfway there at my speed and I was hungry! On the way up we coincidentally ran into the "general manager" of the restaurant, who continued to talk up this place so we wouldn't go back down and eat somewhere else.

We eventually reached the top of this mountain and sat down to our table with a fantastic view. The waiter came and offered us each a Bellini (champagne and fresh white peach) for out efforts, and we all gladly accepted. It had been an entertaining experience because the waiter continued to walk over to us and point to another mountain close by and would say something like: "this is where we get out tomatoes from." That's comforting.

I was the only one in my family to order three dishes instead of two which were: a plate of cured meats, tagliatelle with mushrooms, and the most tender and flavorful steak I have eaten with a mild green pepper sauce. Once we all finished eating, we went over to the "general manager" to complement him, he thanked us and with an embarrassed look on his face asked me where I thought he got his beef from. I shrugged. He then looked me in the eye and said, "Omaha, Nebraska."

WHAT?!? I went all the way to Italy to get an Omaha Steak? Yes... Let's get something straight, 95% of the beef in Italy (with the exception of Florence) sucks. So, I would say that it was a good move on his part. I left the restaurant laughing with quite a full stomach for a walk down the mountain. Crap.

This is almost exactly where we ate.

Bad Habits with Food

One might think after reading this post that I'm only writing about junk food and how much of a glutton I am. Don't worry, if you didn't notice the photo on the top of the page, cooked by Jean-Georges Vongerichten (if you don't know this celebrity chef, you should look him up); I've only recently created this blog and I'll talk about my experiences with fancier food eventually. However, I'm going to talk about me and my cousins.

Speaking as the one only child in my family, I often say things about my cousins (who are very dear family members to me) that they may not want to read on this webpage. One of these things being that they often act like they've never seen food before and have no taste for anything as they scarf down what ever is on their plate and the plate next to them. I can't say that I'm perfect either, though when the food isn't exactly the most rich, it'll take a little while to make me get full, which can happen with pizza often. I thought about this while I was eating pizza just now at home.

Which brings me into my own story with pizza, my cousin Patrick, and I. Years ago, my family started a tradition that we all go to a Broadway show over the Christmas break. However, afterwards everyone has to eat, so the first time that we went, we decided to go to John's Pizza on 42nd street which also became a tradition. John's does have good thin crust pizza and sometimes, even without realizing it, Patrick and I can get very competitive. Both of us sat down at our table right next to each other and thankfully, there was a good amount of food ordered, because we began to eat, and eat, and eat.

Even though he's bigger than I am, I'm quite the seasoned eater (pun intended...) and I managed to win at what became a ravenous competition. The bad thing was: we weren't counting slices... It ended up being that we were counting pies. I came out victorious with 3 pies to 2 pies. I learned not to do that after the first time since I couldn't move a muscle that entire night and needed to get my exercise to keep off the weight.

*Note, I wouldn't have been eating it if it didn't taste good, I highly recommend John's (one on 42nd and one on Bleeker Street in the Village).

My Krispy Kreme Fiasco

Tuesday, I took a trip into the city (which isn't unusual for me, I'm there every Saturday); however I took the train in with some of my friends, while I usually come by car. On the way in I had an argument with one of them saying that there was a Krispy Kreme Doughnut shop in Penn Station, which he refused to believe because he thought that they went out of business. I felt the need to prove him wrong, so when we arrived, I took a walk down the long strip of restaurants in the Penn main corridor, having no luck finding it. I needed to drown my upsets, so I marched into a Cinnabon shop for breakfast and became happy again.

After a day of walking and eating (I worked off what ever I ate by walking in notably 90 degree weather), my friends and I started to make our way back to the train. Reminded about my argument earlier, I asked my buddy, Max, to look up the Krispy Kreme on his phone (isn't technology great!). He found that it was near the Amtrak station. Alright, being a Long Islander, I'm not so sure about my way around all of Penn Station, notably passing by the Amtrak walking in 20 minutes before our ride back. Remembering, Max informed me that the doughnuts were at the Amtrak a little bit back.

Another friend and I ran as fast as we could, because one thing I love more than proving people wrong is a box of doughnuts. We reached the Amtrak terminal which was as big as Central Park, and he was ready to give up, though I was determined. With 15 minutes remaining, I ran around franticly searching for this shop and I ended up finding it after that work! I managed to grab a box of six and run back to the Long Island terminal with 4 minutes to spare. After showing the box to Jonathan, proving him wrong (double win!), he inquired if he could go get some in time, and I replied: "No. They went out of business for the day..." and happily took the train ride home while all of my friends enviously eyed my doughnuts.