Waitin' for the Weekend

The Pork Boys Do Mardi Gras, 2020

--- Porkchops Jambalaya ---

Since M.P. made such a grand Valentine's feast last Sunday, this week he contented himself with a smaller but nonetheless scrumptious menu of real, honest-to-God Cajun delights.

Our theme colors were green, gold, and purple, of course.  In the background at top center is the peacock plant we call "Mary Grace," having bought her on this occasion several years ago.

M.P. sewed the center cloth himself last year for just such dinners.

These festive masks are also M.P.'s handiwork.

The little disco ball in the center is as close as we get to nightclubbing these days.  And we're just fine with that.

Shrimp and grits!  Unknown in my childhood, they have in recent times become a renowned Southern delicacy.  Before cooking (briefly) in a spicy tomato sauce, M.P. brined these tiny shrimp to tenderize them so I could enjoy them.  I'm happy to report it worked.  Deviled eggs are another of our most favorite appetizers.

The fixin's, all lined up and ready to go.

Porkchops Jambalaya is M.P.'s own twist on a Cajun standard, devised some years ago and a family favorite ever since.  Here you see the pork (actually pork ribs) as they came from the oven, slow-cooked in a spicy red sauce.

The pork pieces are served over M.P.'s fabulous jambalaya, which is nothing like anything you've ever had in a restaurant.  Containing rice, the trinity, bacon, sausage, sliced hard-boiled eggs, and other bits and pieces, all bound together with a bit more spicy red sauce--let's just say it's magically delicious!

Nothing else was needed on our plates except M.P.'s made-from-scratch hot biscuits and butter.  Talk about good!  Hoo-whee!

Instead of a Kings' Cake this year, M.P. put on his thinking cap and came up with this colorful concoction of puff pastry, cherry pie filling, and cream cheese that he calls Crown Pastry.  Yummm!

Awfully tasty with some fresh-brewed Rum Cake Coffee left over from Xmas.

And that's all, folks. Laissez les bon temps rouler!  At least until tomorrow, when Lent begins.

Sunday Drive: Malagueña

The classic flamenco tune as you've never heard it before.  Caution:  may be habit-forming.

Waitin' for the Weekend

N O T I C E   T O   C O N S U M E R S

Owing to high tariffs, winter storms, and general instability of global markets, our stock of hot men is running perilously low at this time.  If supplies do not increase soon, rationing will be introduced to ensure a fair supply for everyone of the restricted amounts available. 

If you have not yet received your ration book in the mail, please apply online with your current address, phone number, names and ages of all consenting adults residing in your home, and your estimated weekly consumption needs (pounds or kilograms per person, dry weight).  And please be thrifty:  use supplies on hand sparingly during this crisis. Waste not, want not!

The Management of the Blue Truck thanks you for your cooperation.

The Pork Boys Do Valentine's Day

M. P. set the prettiest table you ever saw for our Sunday dinner, and picked out the flowers especially to go with the candles and tablecloth:  pink roses, white hydrangea, and a bit of purple stattice to give it verve.

We haven't always done anything special for Valentine's Day, but this year, inspired by the culinary and decorative possibilities of the occasion, M. P. pulled out all the stops for our Sunday feast--and it was grand indeed.  Just wait till I show you.

But first I must tell you that for last Saturday's "blue-plate special" dinner, M. P. made a truckload of his famous Chicken Enchiladas, enough to fill a large baking dish and two smaller ones, which we put in the freezer for later use.

Sure, you've had regular old beef enchiladas - but chicken enchiladas are even more delightful, enveloped in a creamy cheese sauce and topped with green onions, black olives, and grated white and yellow cheddar cheeses.  

Of course M. P. made his deluxe frijoles refritos to go with the enchiladas - with a little sour cream added.  And you can't eat enchiladas without some Spanish rice, cooked in chicken-tomato bouillon.  Ay caramba, que delicioso!

For Sunday night's dinner, M. P. took care of everything, including place settings.  My sole contribution to dinner was to uncork the wine, our usual White Zin.

Our feast began with a really scrumptious broccoli-and-carrot soup, M. P.'s own variation on Julia Child's broccoli soup, made from a leek and potato base, and here garnished with shredded Swiss cheese and some homemade croutons.  Luscious!

And here is what the main course looked like:  M. P. surprised me with a fabulous Surf 'n' Turf dinner, with which he took especial pains to make everything nice and tender so I could eat it without dental difficulties.  From the 6 o'clock position, going clockwise:  Rock lobster tail, broiled in butter; ribeye steak (seared in a skillet, then baked low and slow in a covered pan till it was falling apart); Just Bread (explanation follows); a lovely big baked potato, loaded with butter and sour cream; stuffed yellow squash, filled with minced onion, mushrooms, and crumbled Ritz crackers; fried red tomatoes; and tender little asparagus tips underneath M. P.'s marvelous homemade Hollandaise sauce.  One of M. P.'s most magnificent dinners ever, and certainly the most beautiful.  I loved it, and savored every single bite.

M. P. made this huge loaf of soft, tasty bread to go with our dinner.  When I asked him what the name of it was, he answered, "Just bread."  In between all the other preparations, he simply mixed up some yeast dough, sprinkled it with sesame and poppy seeds, and baked it without consulting any recipes.  Nameless or not, it was mighty fine bread.  I tell you what.

And finally, the piece de resistance--a superbly concocted Chocolate Mousse, tasting more chocolate-y than anything you've ever had before, and with such perfect texture that it would not fall from an upturned spoon.  I know because we made the experiment ourselves.  But shhh, fellas - don't tell anyone.  People would be breaking the door down if they knew we had something this good in the house.  And yes, there are several more glasses of mousse left for us to enjoy this week.

As you can see, though the world in general may be racing headlong to hell, the Pork Boys are undaunted, manfully keeping up the best traditions of civilized life to the utmost of our strength.  We are both gratefully aware of how lucky we are, he to cook and me to eat (and wash up), and both of us to enjoy these wonderful meals--which are, in fact, just about our only recreation.  Getting by on a limited, somewhat precarious income, we never go out to movies, plays, concerts, or nightclubs, and we eat out only once a year, for one birthday or the other.  But why should we go out to eat, when we can eat so well, and so cheaply, at home?

Dat mousse!

And so with such a perfect ending to such a perfect meal, I bid you fellas goodnight and wish you all bon appetit! at your own tables.

Sunday Drive: Bach, Prelude in C Major

A poignant, hopeful melody for your Sunday dreaming:

The Pork Boys Do Lovers' Pie

Last Sunday's dinner anticipated Valentine's Day and was especially delightful.

Lovers' Pie - a fabulous dish that M.P. read about somewhere and decided to try.  First, he cut beef sirloin into very thin slices, then wrapped each one around an oyster, and baked it all in a flaky piecrust with caramelized onions, beef consomme and red wine.  Magnifique!  I tell you what, boys.  You never had anything so good in your mouth.

In case that hadn't worked out, M.P. also made a new variation of garlic chicken, butterflied, breaded with panko and finely chopped garlic, and slowly baked in a white wine sauce until perfectly tender and juicy.

From 6 o'clock, going clockwise:  garlic chicken, herbed rice and luscious cream gravy; garlic Texas toast; fried Italian green beans; Lovers' Pie.

The Lovers' Pie was so good, we had to go back for seconds.
If anybody out there doesn't love oysters as we do,
I'm just sorry as I can be for you.

We had no dessert to speak of at dinner; but earlier in the day, M.P. had made up four pans of his wonderful cinnamon rolls, decorated with pink icing and candy hearts, which he delivered to his kids and grandkids.  There was also a fifth pan, twice as big as the others, which he made for the delectation of your Head Trucker, who was most grateful.

The Tale of the Two LIfeguards, Part III

A guest post by my truckbuddy Tim from England, now resident in Spain:

The Tale of the Two Lifeguards

Chapter Three.

In which there are new endings and old beginnings, 
and we bid farewell to our friends . . .

Image by my good friend hi-host here on tumblr. Thanks Lenny.

Unaware of the drama playing out at the little wooden pier, Old José and his wife, Anita, locked up their cafe for the day. They locked all the doors, front, back and sides. They pulled all the shutters shut and closed all the windows, side by side, front and back too. And when they had finished, Anita took up the lantern whilst José switched of all the electric lights. Then they opened the secret trapdoor and descended the stone stairs, locking the trapdoor securely behind them.

The stairs twisted around and down. Soon they could feel the heat, rising warm air condensed into sparkling drops of dew on the cold stone walls as they descended yet further. A blue glow began to strengthen and light their way, then Anita blew out the lantern, for there was no need of it any more. The warm water before them glowed with its own magical light, now blue, now green. Wisps of steam danced and chased one another over the water's surface, for they were magic too.

Anita took José's gnarled hand in hers and together they walked down the last steps that led into the glittering water. And as their bodies submerged, and the wisps of steam clung to their bodies, so their legs glowed blue and green, just like the water, and then they turned into fish’s tails.

"Has he chosen yet?" asked José.

"No, not quite yet . . ." Anita replied, ". . . but Piers is staying on the island again tonight. It won't be long now."

"Then our time is over?"

"Soon, my dear, soon . . ."

Continued after the jump . . .

The Tale of the Two Lifeguards, Part II

A guest post by my truckbuddy Tim from England, now resident in Spain:

The Tale of the Two Lifeguards

Chapter Two

in which Piers is promoted, Christopher is dropped, 

and as for poor Polly . . .

Image by my good friend hi-host here on tumblr.  Thanks, Lenny.

Piers couldn't wait for the final ferry boat of the day to leave the little island of Tabarca.  At last he could pack up his lifeguarding bits and bobs from the big beach, the one that wasn't very big at all, and meet Captain Chris down at the little wooden pier . . .

A short while later, he was making sure his yellow rescue boat was securely moored, whilst keeping a watchful eye out for unwanted visitors.  He could hardly believe he'd met a merman, and such a handsome, friendly one.  And he could only imagine the fuss there would be if anyone else got to know.  They would probably try and capture Chris and examine him, or put him in an aquarium.  He shuddered at the idea; people could be so cruel, especially to creatures that were different.  For a moment he was lost so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice the brown-haired head that rose silently alongside the boat.

Continued after the jump . . .

The Pork Boys Do Groundhog Day

Of course we celebrated with a nice dinner.  Doesn't everyone?

This was our first dinner with the new chair covers M.P. found online for a very reasonable price.  They accentuate the lovely finish of the dining table that M.P. built some years ago with a solid poplar top, hand-rubbed with 12 coats of tung oil that give it a perpetual lustre.  Sometime soon I will post a daytime pic so you all can see the elegant pattern of the chair covers better.

For our Sunday dinner this week, we feasted upon - what else? - a very succulent Roast Groundhog stuffed with braised cabbage and bacon, and basted lovingly for hours with butter, herbs, and white wine.  I can report that the final result was superb, all tender and juicy, and slathered with a luscious gravy of cream, butter, and white wine.  Really something to write home about.  I tell you what.

As usual, M.P.'s teleophone camera, though very handy for cookery pics, fails to catch the fine, fragrant steam arising from the roast, pulled out of the oven just moments beforehand.

And here is the stuffed groundhog neatly sliced and ready to serve.

This rich, thick cream gravy was good enough to eat with a spoon, I declare!

Delicate young sweet peas, pearl onions, and bits of red bell pepper, all in a luxurious sauce of cream, butter, and white wine - exquisite.

Creamed white corn is very sweet and undeniably delicious.

Yummy parsleyed potatoes, just like M.P.'s mama used to make them.

Clockwise rom the 6 o'clock position:  roast groundhog and cream gravy; peas and onions; one of M.P.'s famous schoolhouse rolls; parsleyed potatoes.  Missing:  creamed corn (omission remedied after this picture was snapped).

For dessert, an old Southern favorite:  chess pie, always scrumptious just in its natural state, but in this case enhanced by M.P.s brilliant intuition with a soupçon of peach brandy.  Oh my, my, my!  You talk about good!   

P.S. -- Okay, I confess:  it was really just pork loin. But one of my mother's old cookbooks actually DOES have a recipe for woodchuck pie - so it could happen!


P.P.S. -- Who knew a groundhog and a woodchuck are the same thing?

What's that?  All of you?  Oh hush up, Yankee boys, and get back to your rhubarbs.