OK already — I forgot!!! Here is a montage image of our Christmas dinner cooking — Weber kettle style 7-Bone Prime Rib Roast, my Grandma’s Recipe Rolls and a Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.

Here is a pdf version of the roast recipe, you can find out how to make the rolls here, and the pie is still a work in progress, so no recipe from the Okie on this one. It tasted pretty good, but was WET and made the crust mushy.

Once again we got the meat from the hyper-professional meat cutters at our local Bob’s Market who age their own prime cuts. We had over 250 years of carnivore experience over here on Christmas Day, and to each and every one of them, this was the finest piece of meat that any of us had EVER eaten. That includes the Kobe long-bone rib-eye steak that I had at Del Frisco’s in Vegas a year ago November and the Kobe steaks in Taipei at the Athletic Club tepanyaki restaurant. Absolutely incredible! Thanks, Richard — you selected well!

Technorati Tags: 7-Bone Prime Rib Roast, Bob’s Market

  Chef Michael Symon Via the ever appreciated magic of Tivo I got to sit down last night and watch the hour of Sunday’s Next Iron Chef finale in about 36 minutes — Hoot! Hoot! Gotta “luv” Tivo. Out of the two finalists, Louisiana’s 39-year old John Besh and Cleveland’s 38-year old Mike Symon I didn’t actually have a favorite to win, I liked both these guys, so either way would work out for me — as if that meant a hill o’ beans.

According to his bio, Besh is a combat seasoned Marine who came home, married his sweetie, who then worked like the devil to give him the opportunity to follow his dream of becoming a great chef. Owner of four restaurants, acclaimed by the culinary press, active in local civic efforts such as the rebuilding of eating establishments after Katrina, and bester of Iron Chef Mario Batalli in ’06, Besh seems to have that dream firing on all cylinders and in my mind was the favorite to win. Symon’s resume is not quite as full as Besh’s, and he didn’t win his Iron Chef battle in ’05, but he is a successful restaurateur in Cleveland, well respected by the culinary press and is a seasoned TV cooking personality. The secret as they say, must have been in the sauce.

As you have likely guessed by the pic shown at top right, Symon won the final cookoff in Kitchen Stadium and is now the newest American Iron Chef. He won out over the more experienced Besh with a bit more playfulness within his creativity, and I think because of a bit more humble attitude — not discounting that he also didn’t make a swordfish desert, unlike Besh, who took on the challenge from Iron Chef/judge Morimoto to do so — with, to be kind, mixed results. Maybe it was Besh’s catfish truffle early on in the competition that gave him the confidence to play with sweet fish once again, but lightning sure didn’t strike twice in the fish desert category. Yecch!

But Okie, what’s all that got to do with the Presidential primaries? Nothing earth shattering, I’d wager. In the Next Iron Chef competition there were eight contestants, seven guys and one gal, all accomplished in their field, several had competed on the actual Iron Chef show in the past. Most, if not all, have prior TV personality experience. All definitely wanted to win. As the field narrowed, that drive to win just got stronger and stronger. The last two guys standing, seemingly friendly towards each other, really wanted it — and the defeat painfully showed in Besh’s face after his loss, although he was very gracious afterward.

Looking at the POTUS primary races, there are lots of guys, and only one gal, that really, really want to win. At this point, it seems like the will to win overshadows all else, at least in the second tier of the GOP race and throughout the Dems roster. As usual, the donkey party has finally started runnin’ all over the corral, hee hawin’ and kickin’ each other in the head, getting the bloodletting started good and early. It’d be fun to watch if the final outcome of all this weren’t so important.

You see, in the competition to be the next Iron Chef, name recognition, fame (of a sort) and many opportunities to merchandise oneself were at stake. Lots and lots o’ bucks, to be sure. But hey, it’s only a TV show, and none of the other Iron Chefs have gone off the reservation as yet — all still take their restaurant careers seriously. For them, it’s another stepping stone to achieving their life’s ambitions.

Being POTUS pretty much IS the pinnacle of a politico’s life ambition — but why? Why does someone want to be President of the United States? We’ve all got to be glad that someone does, but the psychology behind that desire does need some examination, although a careful look at that is beyond the span of this particular post. From a cursory exam I fear that many of the current crop are like the Robert Redford character in The Candidate and when faced with the reality of being in the general election are gonna be asking themselves, “Wha’ the hell happened?”

Obama IS the Redford character — in the limelight, loved by the media, no experience at all. I don’t know whether to fear that Hillary feels that it always should have been her instead of the philandering spouse that she’s stuck with for her “political” life, or if she’s just desperate to alter the cultural fabric of our society to realize the worst of the ’60s’ jumping off the socialist cliff. Edwards? Trial lawyers give me the heebie jeebies! Too slick by half I say. Why, John? Do you really want all that responsibility, do you really think that you have what it takes to send young men and women off to die? It’s not gonna be the ’90s all over again. There’ll be no partying like it’s 1999 on the next president’s watch. I can’t see how the next eight years won’t be more blood-soaked than the last. Iran, Korea, Darfur, Somalia — the list seems to grow by the day. The rest of the Dem field — who cares?

Rudy? He took on New York City, probably wants some more of that ultimate being in control. Romney, same as Rudy except as a governor and business leader — cue the leader bit big time for both of these guys. Fred? Plays a great attorney on TV, has a great voice — sounds like everybody’s idea of Papa. Why would he want to be POTUS this late in life, with what it does to everyone physically and mentally? Go figure. Same on that for McCain. The rest — who cares?

I’m not being flip about this — I truly want to know the “why”. Our next president most likely will be called to “greatness”, not just to be competent or an efficient manager. How many CEOs or Senators do you know that you’d be comfortable with prosecuting the 21st Century’s first world war? Which of the current crop of candidates has the philosophy and the will to ensure our safety in light of today’s threats? Which of these will lead instead of kowtowing to their base? Being POTUS is a real pup! Only someone with a committed sense of service to their countrymen are worthy of consideration. But, which one is it?

Too bad they can’t just lay out their goods, like an Iron Chef, for tasting and judgement. Too bad their intents aren’t as easy to ascertain and evaluate as a basil foam over a swordfish mousse. Too bad their skill levels in all things POTUS aren’t as readily apparent as that of a well seared piece of meat.

I might not have cared which of the two competitors became the next Iron Chef, but you can bet your left glute that I’ll be of a different mind come the primary and general election days next year. Those I’ll care about — oh you betcha!

Chris Muir’s Day by Day Cartoon

And here’s one folks that warms the cockles of this little ol’ okie’s heart, or maybe make that stomach. A top British restaurant has squirrel on the menu, Peking duck-style squirrel pancakes to be exact! Yowza! Sign me up.

A top restaurant is serving up free grey squirrel pancakes to hungry diners.

Peking duck-style squirrel wraps are being offered to diners at The Famous Wild Boar Hotel.

The restaurant at Crook, near Windermere, in Cumbria, is giving diners the chance to try the canapes free of charge.

Oh, come on now, don’t be crybabies. They’re trapping the little grey squirrely critters because they are somehow causing the demise of their cousins, the red squirrels, and something needs to be done with the thousands that are being caught. For my taste, battered and fried then served up with some biscuits and squirrel gravy would be the ideal way to go. Mom’s favorite breakfast to be precise. As a kid I used to use the flat scapula bone as a spoon to scoop up all the tasty gravy. Ah . . . such sweet memories!

Bon Appétit!

Technorati Tags: Peking duck-style squirrel

Man can’t live on the news that the data Global Warming Alarmists have been touting as proof our planets gonna fry us all is pure crap alone, so here at Okie Manor we’re gonna take a short break to discuss some sublime sustenance. BTW, here is the new data set for your perusal, after which you shouldn’t lose any sleep that’s for sure. But, on to more tasty musings, and to expanding the Okie’s carbon footprint exponentially with this recipe for Cedar Plank Salmon.

First, although this should be a given, pick out the freshest, best quality skin-on fish that you can find, preferably at your local fish monger. We are super fortunate to have Santa Monica Fish Company not all that far away, and a most recent surprise is that our local independent Bob’s Market has a small, but of supreme quality, selection of fish in their meats department — and at great prices, too. Wild is preferable to farm raised — for best texture and flavor — but use what you can get. Supermarket fish will work, especially if they are running seasonal specials like Copper River Salmon, but just be mindful of freshness. If it smells quite fishy, punt, and grill up some burgers instead. Fish should smell like the ocean, or not smell at all.

Second, you’ll need to find some cedar planks. A lot of markets (Vons & Safeway for two) have them now, at least out here in SoCal. Bar-B-Ques Galore has both cedar and alder, OSH has cedar and maple. You can even find them online if not anywhere else. Be prepared to use a plank per cooking session as they will char heavily on the bottom over a charcoal fire. Soak the plank in warm water for at least 1/2 hour, 1-hour is more like it — you want to cook the fish, not incinerate it.

Start your charcoal, or preheat your gas grill. Prepping the fish won’t take much time, so have an iced tea or somethin’ before you start with that. Enjoy yourself ’cause this is fun, and if you’re gonna serve this to some guests, that’s gonna be a lot of fun too ’cause this salmon is heaven on a plate.

Rinse you salmon thoroughly and make sure no pin bones have been missed. Nothin’ like gettin’ a bone to put folks off likin’ fish! Season it well on both the skin and cut sides — we use Paul Prudhomme’s Seafood Magic but any good Cajun seasoning would work well. Simple so far, huh?

Remove your plank from the water and rinse — leave wet. Take some gourmet-quality olive oil spray, we use the one from Trader Joes, and mist the top of the plank. Place the fish in the center, skin side down. Cut some thin lemon slices and arrange on top of the fish, then spray well with the olive oil. The TJ aerosol foams up the oil keeping it in place. I then give it a generous coating of fresh ground pepper. That’s it, you’re done and ready to grill.

Spread out the coals evenly and give the grate a minute or two to heat up. Then place the plank in the middle of the grill and drop the lid. Plan to start checking the temp in about 10 minutes or so. You’ll hear the cedar start to pop and crackle — don’t mind that. You’ll start to smell it, too. You’ll like that! At the 10-minute mark I take a peek. As soon as the top of the fish and the lemons are caramelizing around the edges I use an instant read thermometer and start checking the temp in the thickest part of the fish. As soon as I see 120 degrees F., using two metal spatulas I lift the plank off the grill and onto a sheet pan with a wetted paper towel in it. The plank will steam and sizzle as it hits the water. This will put out any live coals on the bottom of it and keep your smoke detector from going off inside the house.

To serve, cut the size piece you want and using a spatula, lift the fish off the skin. We usually have some rice pilaf and asparagus or sauteed spinach to go along with it. A good tartar sauce works for me, but not for all.

Variations? Well, the first time we encountered this dish was at the rooftop restaurant of the Hollywood Bowl. Individual servings came on top of their own little planks. Some stores sell these smaller pieces if you want to make a stunning presentation. What I like about doing it in smaller sections is that you get a lot more tasty-caramelized crusties per piece that way. So I just cut the fish into servings before cooking and leave a bit o’ space between ‘em on the plank, like this.

Another variation that we like a LOT is using Tasmanian Trout (A member of the char family, red meat like salmon but much milder and much more buttery texture) on the alder wood. This is a fantastic combination — right now our favorite fish by far! You can also ditch the Cajun seasoning, lemon and olive oil and replace that with salt, pepper and maple syrup glaze — my personal favorite on the Salmon.

Bon appetite!

[For anyone interested in seeing the entire (although small right now) collection of Okie's food posts, a new food blog has been created called -- Okie Cafe. Enjoy!]

Technorati Tags: Cedar Plank Salmon, Copper River Salmon, Cajun seasoning, Tasmanian Trout

It’s been a very long time since ol’ ‘Okie’ partook of a plate piled high with mountain oysters, more commonly known as bull testicles. Actually, Mom would slice them into strips, batter ‘em up real good and deep fry ‘em. As they say on the Campbell soup commercials — “Ooo Mmm Good!”

Blogger and Townhall.com columnist Phil Harris recently found himself in South Bend, Nebraska sitting before his own plate of testicular gastronomy and found that he was contemplating a lot more than chewin’ through a stack of bull balls.

A group composed of a few friends and family members embarked on a bizarre adventure the other day. It was one of those moments in time, when one’s life teeters precariously on a fence. One side represents the expected evolution of time and maturity, while deep emotional scars lie on the other, waiting to pounce upon sanity with merciless fury.

Indeed, like foolish children who are mesmerized by the piper’s song, we made our way to South Bend, Nebraska and the annual Testicle Festival. I have long heard stories of this insane practice, and being unaware of any testicle induced fatalities, curiosity got the best of me. I ordered a basket of deep fried testicles, and I ate them.
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Of course, there are obvious lessons to be drawn from this experience, considering the herd of political animals that dream of grabbing the reigns of power in 2008. I mean certainly, I cannot be the only one who thinks “politician” when he hears the word testicles.
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Be that as it may, I am afraid that a serious testicle shortage exists in the nation’s beltway. After all, one might assume that a healthy, normal dose of testosterone would cause this powerful nation’s leaders to clinch their teeth in a fighting rage, as terrorists and other homicidal maniacs blow up our troops and innocent Iraqi citizens. Instead, we have witnessed the neutering of our congressional delegations as they cower in retreat; handing the devil’s minions the predictable victory they designed.

Just ’cause you got ‘em, don’t mean you’ve got a clue as how to use ‘em. Silky Pony is a prime example. Whether the winner in ’08 actually possesses a set or just has a healthy dose of testicular fortitude one thing is certain — he/she will be severely tested by those that wish us great harm. God help us all if our next president is found out a neuter.

Technorati Tags: Rocky Mountain Oysters, South Bend, Silky Pony

My Mother’s mother’s yeasty rolls — Mmmmmm, yummy!

One of my fondest memories was going to Oilton for the holidays and gettin’ to eat my Grandma’s bread and especially her yeasty rolls. The dough was the same for both of them as far as I know, but the way the rolls cooked up, not doughy but still super tender in the center, with a soft, brown scrumptious crust — tear em’ open and slather on the butter or margarine and man . . . you couldn’t eat enough of them fast enough. You’d see the uncs and cousins with plates full ‘o food, with 3 or 4 of these bad boys piled on top. I can still taste them in my mind.

Actually, I can just go to the kitchen and taste one for real, ’cause over the past couple of years I finally “got it” — both the taste and the texture of Grandma’s rolls. The journey was long, but not arduous, unless eatin’ you way through batches and batches of homemade rolls and breads is too much for ya. We decided that we could rise to the challenge, although “expand” to the challenge might be more like it. Regardless, if the accolades that keep being heaped on these is any indication, it was worth all the previous agonies of the many defeats.

Now, I wouldn’t be a very nice guy, and sometimes I’m not — huh, Big Al? — if’n I didn’t share the secret of these Okie’s Grandma’s rolls, so here goes.

Okie’s Grandma’s Yeasty Rolls

3 – Cups bleached all-purpose flour (not self-rising)
1 – Cup hot tap water
3/8 – Cup light brown sugar
3 – Tablespoons light olive oil
1 – teaspoon salt
1 – Egg
1 – Package fast-rise yeast

Here’s the crazy part. My wrists are just not up to kneading bread anymore. After years of kneading clay for making pottery and twisting wrenches, sketching with pens and markers and running a mouse and pounding on a keyboard — not to mention making loaves and loaves of bread — they’re Kaput. So, I’ve tried using the Cuisinart, and the Kitchenaid with a dough hook, but both overprocess this dough and give a more dense texture than Grandma’s rolls ever had. I seemed to remember that Mom said that her mother would let them rise only twice, but like I said, I can’t do this by hand anymore.

Enter the magic “bread machine” — a ten/twelve year-old one-pound capacity “The Bread Machine” by Welbilt (no longer being made ). I would assume that any one-pound “vertical” oriented loaf machine would work. Just choose the dough cycle.

To get the best and fastest rise, put the water in first, then the sugar and yeast, then the flour and all the rest, turn it on and go blog or watch Fox News for an hour & a half. Have two 8″ pie pans sprayed with Pam butter flavored spray. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and sprinkle with just a little flour. I take a chefs knife and cut the mass into two parts, then each of those in two again, with all smaller balls spit into threes. That gives you twelve rolls per pan. Just stretch the dough balls over and onto themselves a few times and pinch the ragged edges together at the bottom. I get the center three set up and then the rest get spaced evenly around the edge of the pan.

With the over preheating to 400 degrees, I place the pans onto those back two burners and cover with clean paper towels. Every ten minutes or so I rotate them 180 and sometimes switch the pans from side to side to keep the rise as even as possible (the oven vents more to the right, so that side’s pan rises faster than the other one.) I let them rise a lot, ’til they’re domed nicely and pushin’ up those paper towels pretty good. This takes some practice (like you’ll mind eatin’ the rejects or somethin’) but just about the time I think they’re gonna over-rise, I mist them real good with clean water — helps build a good crust — and then get ‘em in the oven. It sure doesn’t take long before you start smellin’ somethin’ good!

I set the timer for 10 minutes, and check them through the window often. Depending upon outside temps, they’re usually plenty done in ten-to-twelve. Gotta check the bottoms sometimes to make sure they’re all browned an’ all, but since I’ve started using a pair of medium-dark gray silicone coated pans, the bottoms have browned at the same time as the tops. Cool!

When they’re done, de-pan onto a cooling rack or grid and go over the tops with a stick of butter just enough to make ‘em shiny. That also softens the crust and keeps it tender, not crunchy. These are Grandma’s rolls, not the Kaiser’s.

The hardest part is not eating ALL of them at this stage, all fresh out of the oven — all hot an steamy — all ready to tear open, butter up and eat ‘em like a big dog! But, adulthood is chock full o’ self control situations, and this certainly is one o’ those. Channel your inner Atkins, Okie — you can always make more tomorrow . . .

By the way, you don’t have to have one of those show kitchens to cook like we do here at Okie Manor. As you can see, it’s more like a small boat’s galley than a kitchen. We just happen to be makin’ Thanksgiving dinner today, in July, but the “reason” for this is another post for another time — Bon Appétit!