Recently in Adventures in Domesticity (Recipes) Category

Apologies for the dearth of updates on the blog today. I spent a decent portion of the day working out my taxes, which is never a particularly fun experience. The good news is that I'm done (for now), which means I can turn my attention back here. As avid readers of this blog may remember, about two weeks ago, I attempted my first ever batch of flapjacks. The result was very promising, and I was happy to have finally conquered such a basic breakfast staple.

My friend Andrea, however, was beside herself with frustration. She insisted that when it came to pancakes, there were Ina Garten's Banana Sour Cream variety... and then everything else. Over the course of many emails and Facebook posts (often written in all caps), Andrea declared that Ina's griddle creations were the end all and be all of pancakes and that I was simply wasting my time with these namby pamby other recipes. Normally I'd just nod politely -- after all, a pancake is a pancake. Some are better than others, but can one recipe be so head and shoulders above the rest that it inspires rabid loyalty? Well, apparently yes. I trust Andrea's tastes, and furthermore, I trust Ina Garten's recipes. Therefore, I stocked up on bananas and sour cream and assembled the batter.

Results after the jump.

This morning, there was as wonderful confluence of events that led to an unexpected Adventure in Domesticity. 1) I ran out of my normal breakfast cereal that I eat everyday; and 2) I learned it was National Pancake Day, at least as declared by IHOP. What better way to fill the breakfast void than by cooking up some flapjacks myself, a humble mission I had never actually attempted before (potato and kimchee pancakes don't count). Yes, I've made some bizarre and dainty items at this point, but never have I tried the simple pancake.

After some research, I settled on a generic recipe from the Food Network and got to work in my kitchen. The results after the jump...

Impressed by my ever involved Adventures in Domesticity, my mother last month gave me two Julia Child cookbooks: Julia Child & Company and Julia Child & More Company. My mom, who likes to call herself C-Side, explained to me that more than any other tomes, these two cookbooks elevated her culinary education. This was all very exciting to me as I had yet to attempt a Julia Child recipe in any shape, matter, or form. Part of me was intimidated, and part of me felt like it was already well-worn territory, thanks to Julie Powell (on whom Julie & Julia was based). But then I realized that just because a bigger, more successful blogger had already tackled Julia Child didn't mean I couldn't attempt a similar Adventure in Domesticity myself. After all, Julie Powell hasn't cornered the market on Julia Child (although, she has cornered the market on saying "penis" on Iron Chef).

Nevertheless, feeling emboldened and intrepid, I decided to take on an ambitious cake by Julia Child -- one that my mom had made two or three times in my youth. I'm talking of the one and only Bombe Aux Trois Chocolats: a chocolate-covered, brownie-crusted, oversized bonbon of a cake filled with dense, delectable chocolate mousse. I knew it wouldn't be easy -- the entire cake is actually comprised of three different recipes in the book -- but my desire for a challenge coupled with an insatiable craving for chocolate propelled me forward. Would I be able to properly execute this most decadent of desserts? Results after the jump...

About a month ago, I discovered the Sichuan cookbook Land of Plenty by Fuchsia Dunlop online and became immediately intrigued. The collection of recipes has received rave reviews from critics, bloggers, and buyers on sites like Amazon, and after having perused various images of dishes people had whipped up from the book, I felt an overwhelming desire to try one out myself. The only problem: I didn't have Land of Plenty. You see, I haven't found it in any bookstores as of yet, and while I could purchase it off Amazon (for cheaper), I'd personally like to at least leaf through it once before ordering to see if it's even a cookbook I'd use frequently enough. Nothing worse than a novelty cookbook taking up space on the shelf.

Well, in lieu of being able to thumb my way through Land of Plenty, I resorted to Googling people's experiences with the book, and that ultimately took me to a site called Eat It, Atlanta, which features a "Land of Plenty series" in which a writer attempts to cook perhaps all of Dunlop's recipes. He eventually stops after about eight or ten posts, which is unfortunate, but at least there's enough content there to give me a small idea of what's in the cookbook. One of the more intriguing recipes is for something called Red Cooked Pork -- fascinating to me for both the name, the appearance, and its lack of exotic ingredients (ie. Sichuan peppercorns). With my appetite and curiosity piqued, I followed a link from Eat It, Atlanta to a site called Appetite for China where I found Fuchsia Dunlop's recipe for the dish. Upon seeing the photos on that website, I knew it was AWN. Granted, it didn't look like the healthiest of recipes, but I figured this (coupled with my next planned Adventure in Domesticity) would be my triumphant final fatty huzzah to 2009 (with healthier forays to come in the New Year, as is often the lofty goal).

But would I be able to successfully pull off this dish, which was apparently the favorite of Chairman Mao? Results after the jump...

It was all cold and rainy in LA on Monday, and for whatever reason, this spurred on an insatiable craving for chocolate cake -- one that I could not quell, no matter how hard I tried. Making matters worse was that Mark Bittman had just written a piece about chocolate layer cake, and if that wasn't bad enough, I had just recently seen an episode of Ask Aida wherein Aida Mollenkamp baked a chocolate cake with a frosting made out of PUDDING. Add to that a scene in It's Complicated featuring Meryl Streep and an amazing slice of chocolate cake, and I decided enough was enough. I was going to make a chocolate cake, dammit, and when I paused to reconsider, I realized that despite a lovely trip to Disneyland and a rowdy time with my friends over the weekend, I had never gotten around to having any actual birthday cake. WELL THEN. What better reason to attempt my very first layer cake? And so the plan was put into motion. I would be making cake.

The results after the jump...

Next week, most Americans will be gathered around a table of some sort to celebrate Thanksgiving, and by "celebrate," I mean stuff their faces until a button or four pops off any variety of shirt, pants, blouse, or skort. And when it comes to gut-busting food, no one does it better than Ina Garten. That's why it was only logical that my clique would convene yet again for our third Barefoot Contessa potluck night, this time in honor of Thanksgiving. Yes, we assembled a small pre-Thanksgiving Thanksigiving and enjoyed some of Ina's best seasonal offerings. On the menu: turkey, stuffing, veggies, salad, pumpkin stuff, dip, and, of course, booze. How bad can that be?

If you're looking for inspiration for next week's big feast, you've come to the right place. Check out our Mayflower celebration -- replete with a real life American Indian! -- after the jump...

(additional pictures by jash -- ie. the ones that clearly came from a better camera)

For nearly two years, I've been littering my blog with "Adventures In Domesticity" posts where I attempt some recipe in an effort to hone the domestic side of my personality. I've cooked up many interesting dishes and subsequently had many fascinating adventures, but last night marked a true milestone for me. It was the first time ever that a published cookbook author was in attendance to oversee the chaos. No, Ina Garten hadn't dropped by the apartment (although, she has an open invitation). This was my friend Heather Whaley, who just published the book Eat Your Feelings: Recipes For Self-Loathing. Falling somewhere between humor and cooking, the book is all about recipes you can whip up easily and with minimal effort when you're just in one of those MOODS (or drunk). Realizing your marriage is on thin ice? Try the "Staying Together for the Children Chicken Tetrazzini." Feeling a bit sexually harassed? Go for the "Rainbow Sherbet 'Cause Your Boss Is A Pervert." Or maybe you just feel under appreciated. Then it's time for the "You Are Overqualified for Your Job and They Make You Get the Donuts Super Veggie Dog."

Anyway, with Heather's book in hand, we decided to have a little Eat Your Feelings party involving an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert — and of course multiple glasses of wine along the way. Pictures from this exciting event after the jump...

Earlier this year, I visited Mario Batali and Nancy Silverton's famed Los Angeles eatery Pizzeria Mozza with my two friends Kat and Cat, who introduced me to the restaurant's butterscotch budino for dessert. The experience was just a hair short of orgasmic. I could not stop raving about the rich, decadent dessert, and when I later learned that it was a signature item on the menu beloved by many, many patrons, I was far from surprised. The dessert is in fact so notoriously wonderful that its recipe was printed in the New York Times.

Well, the day after our meal, Cat sent me the aforementioned budino recipe (budino, fyi, is basically Italian pudding) and dared me to make it (at which point it was understood that Cat and Kat would then trek to my apartment and sample the good for themselves). There was only one problem: I had a debilitating fear of making caramel — something this recipe required at two different junctures. All the bubbling and scalding liquid, not to mention the threat of burning the sugar and/or scalding my hands — it just seemed too advanced for me. But after having made two apple tarte tatins this week, both requiring the creation of caramel, I've been emboldened. At last I felt ready to take on the budino.

Before I go any further, however, I have to take a moment to address my mother, who is undoubtedly reading this right now. Mom, what you are about to see is not for the faint of heart. It is probably the most cholesterol-laden dish I've ever made in my life. But do not worry: I don't plan to eat it all (at least not in one sitting), and I continue to lead an otherwise healthy lifestyle.

Now that all disclaimers are out of the way for concerned parents, let's move on to all the exciting pictures.

Apple tarte Tatin.

About a week and a half ago, I finally got a cast-iron skillet (thanks Mom and Dad!), and ever since then, I've been eager to use it. I made a grilled cheese on it (the bread browned perfectly!), a batch of shrimp piri-piri (best batch yet!), and now last night, I tried my hand at apple tarte Tatin. I'd been intrigued by the dish ever since I saw Anne Burrell on the Food Network make it a few months ago, but alas, without an oven-proof pan, I hadn't the opportunity to make it myself.

Well, with the arrival of my skillet (as well as a piece in the New York Times about the art of the Tatin), my interest in tarte Tatin was rekindled. I first dipped my toes in the Tatin waters this weekend when I made an apple cake "tatin" for a Barefoot Contessa potluck dinner. A simplified version of the real thing, Ina's Tatin has you simply pour a caramel sauce over apples in a pie pan, top with cake batter, and stick it in the oven for forty-minutes. Don't get me wrong — the results were delicious. However, most other Tatin recipes I'd seen on the Internets called for really browning the apples in the caramel before going into the oven. I wanted to try the method. Plus, as previously mentioned, I felt compelled to incorporate my skillet into the proceedings.

And so I attempted Anne Burrell's recipe for an Apple Tarte Tatin. The results after the jump...

The terms "Asian" and "pot roast" aren't often found together because according to New York Times culinary star Mark Bittman, "a scarcity of fuel in east Asia precluded long, slow cooking" back in the day. That's all well and good, but you see, I bought these chuck roasts from Costco a few months ago, and now I've gotta use them. I can only make so many traditional, European-style pot roasts (red wine, garlic, onion, carrots, celery). Don't get me wrong — the French and British traditions of pot roasts are lovely — but I love Asian flavor profiles; so off to the Internet I went in search of some sort of Asian-y braise I could apply to mah meat.

Unfortunately, I discovered that there were very few braises that seemed trustworthy. I searched for "Asian pot roast," "Asian short ribs," "Asian braise," etc. etc.. Emeril had an option that looked decent, but then again, so did Mark Bittman (see above link). Plus, I once had used an Aida Mollenkamp Asian short rib recipe that I had found quite delightful; so that was a contender too. After consulting with Sly, Jash, and Erin McChids of Dishwasher Ready, I decided to "hotrod" (as Ina says) the Mollenkamp ribs by adding some elements of the ever-trusted Bittman Asian pot roast recipe along with a few items from my kitchen. Unfortunately, I took no photos of the experience, but I can tell you right now it turned out wonderfully. That's why I'm writing this. It was so good, I felt the need to share what I did so that I can add to the small canon of Asian Pot Roast recipes on the Internet.

Details after the jump.

Because the weather in Los Angeles was so beautiful last night, my friend Sly moseyed on over to my place, and the two of us ascended to my rooftop where we split a bottle of Rioja which we had purchased in Harbor City as part of our paella adventure many moons ago. Suffice it to say the wine, Campo Viejo Reserva 2004, was fantastic — as was the view — and after an hour and a half of lovely conversation tinged with scathing remarks about a variety of subjects, we decided the best way to conclude such a delightful evening would be to take in a viewing of this week's Mad Men. But what's Mad Men without cookies? Actually, the two are not intrinsically linked; however, in my mind I decided that I absolutely could not watch the adventures of Sterling Cooper this week without some fresh chocolate chip cookies. And so before we began, I busted out the New Basics cookbook and had Sly narrate the directions whilst I assembled the ingredients for what promised to be a very tasty treat. Behind the camera, I should note, was Lil' Grans, who is hoping to join the ranks of our clique (The VC), but his application is still pending. (He came over for Mad Men and was promptly enlisted into photographic duty).

Photos of this cookie adventure (only the second time I've ever made chocolate chip cookies in my life) after the jump...

Two nights ago, I attempted to make a simple batch of blondies and was met with pure disaster. Well, I shouldn't say that. My baking follies gave way to the creation of an entirely new dessert / ice cream topping: Blondie Crumble. However, as lovely as that penicillin-esque discovery was, it still could not provide an ample substitute for an actual blondie. Even worse, I was now the laughing stock of my friends (not to mention IndianJones's brother, who wrote a rather disdainful missive pertaining to my ineptitude in the kitchen). I needed to redeem myself. I needed to prove that I could successfully make blondies. After all, I've pulled off black and white cookies. Surely I could do this.

And so last night I set out on my latest project, which I aptly named Blondies: Redemption. Was I successful? Pictures after the jump...

In honor of last night's season finale of Big Brother (photocap to come), I decided to bake some blondies — partially in support of Jordan, but mostly in support of my sweet tooth. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out quite the way I was expecting them to, and sadly, the blame falls squarely on me. Photos of this tragic blondie disaster (or BLONDSASTER as Rachel Zoe might call it) are limited, but the full story is after the jump.

Last night was not only the season premiere of Monday Night Football, but it also marked the triumphant return of Tom Brady, who played his first regular season game since nearly having his knee utterly destroyed last year in the season opener. As you can imagine, this was a thrilling occasion for my friend IndianJones, who one might describe as a borderline Tom Brady stalker (I swear he must have a sticky little shrine devoted to the man somewhere in his apartment). Anyway, IndianJones's tail had been wagging all weekend, and since ESPN was due to air a double-header of games (Pats vs. Bills followed by Chargers vs. Raiders), I thought his head might just explode from excitement. It was going to be a big night of football, and as such, we realized we were gonna need some food to help us get through the festivities. Normally, as per our football tradition, we'd just grab sandwiches from Subway or something like that, but this was the first MNF of the season, and more importantly, TAWM BRADY'S WICKED AWESOME RETURN. This called for something special (normally I wouldn't care about Brady... buuuut he IS the QB on one of my fantasy teams; so I must confess to having a vested interest).

Anyway, to celebrate this landmark evening of pigskin splendor, IndianJones and I decided to make some football staples: pizza and ribs. And of course, I documented it all. The full experience after the jump...

What happens when six people put together an Ina Garten-themed potluck dinner on a Sunday night? They all roll away feeling like they never want to eat again for the rest of their lives. And that's a good thing. Yes, last Sunday, a few of my friends and I put on a Barefoot Contessa dinner party, and the results were stunning. Each one of us brought at least one dish, and I'll tell you right now, there was enough food to feed a small army (assuming one would want that small army to then be sluggish, moaning, and occasionally be prone to reiterating "THAT WAS SO GOOD"). Here's how it broke down: our hosts, Greg and Andrea, were in charge of the main course; Sly took on dessert; Jash was appetizers; Malibu Judie was cocktails; and I provided the side. Together, we formed a Voltron of culinary bliss, helped — no doubt — by the presence of GOOD ingredients.

Pictures of all that we created after the jump...

Yesterday, I posted photos of an epic grocery trip here in Los Angeles where my friend Malibu Judie and I procured thirty-three pounds of fresh produce and two pounds of shrimp to be cooked over the course of the weekend. Well, on Saturday of this past weekend, we put many of those purchases to use as the two of us, as well as B-Side Blog regulars jash and Sly, convened in my kitchen to create Jalapeño Cocktail Hour. Over the course of a few hours, we managed to churn out several delicious items: jalapeño cornbread, jalapeño poppers, a shrimp and jalapeño salad, jalapeño-cucumber margaritas (with a candied jalapeño garnish), and a shrimp and jalapeño ceviche, adapted from a recipe by Rick Bayless. Needless to say, we had our work cut out for ourselves. This would be apartment cooking at its best.

A lengthy culinary journey after the jump...

There have been many Adventures in Domesticity on this blog, but none rival the size and effort put forth this past weekend in my kitchen. In fact, it was such a process, that multiple kitchens across the city of Los Angeles were employed. Well, only two others really, but that's still legit. Here's the backstory: our old college chum Malibu Judie came to town last week, and we decided that in honor of her presence, we would make fresh cocktails on Saturday afternoon. But alas, it could not be a total celebration as vital clique member IndianJones was out of town on business. We decided that in honor of him, we would whip up some jalapeño cornbread — except we'd actually make ours look good. This way IndianJones could be with us in spirit — something I know we all cherished greatly. Overall, it seemed like a relatively simple and straightforward plan for Saturday.

But then the booze kicked in. You see, we planned this all over margaritas at Lotería Grill in Hollywood, and the drunker we got, the more elaborate our schemes became. We wouldn't just be having jalapeño cornbread. We'd be having jalapeño margaritas too. And jalapeño poppers! And a ceviche! With jalapeños! Yes, it was turning into an Occasion with a capital O, and thus the Jalapeño Cocktail Hour was born. (We could have employed alliteration and called it the Jalapeño Happy Hour, but that would have been base.)

Anyway, on Friday, Malibu Judie and I sat down and browsed both the internet and various cookbooks for noteworthy jalapeño recipes, and once we were satisfied, we compiled a grocery list. But this wasn't just any grocery list. You see, it turns out that Jalapeño Cocktail Hour happened to land on the same weekend as an Ina Garten Potluck Dinner Party — one where every guest brings a dish from the Barefoot Contessa's deep catalogue. Cocktails? Ina? It was a perfect storm of domesticity, and as such, Malibu Judie and I not only had to shop for Saturday, but for Sunday too. It was insanity. Long story short: on Friday alone, Malibu Judie and I bought thirty-three pounds of fresh produce (and two pounds of shrimp). Being the frugal shoppers that we are, however, we only spent $40 total. How did we do it? Well, the first part of this weekend-long, monster-sized Adventure in Domesticity is after the jump...

My friend IndianJones is a surprisingly adept chef. Despite questionable knife skills (he fears chopping his already small digits off), he can put together a solid meal. Heck, the kid can even bake a thing or two (he supplied our clique, a.k.a. the Lametourage, with homemade soda bread on St. Patty's Day). But IndianJones's recent exploits have left him the butt of our jokes. Take a look at the dish above and try to guess what exactly it is. A pizza? A cookie? Some sort of Hindu specialty? The answer isn't terribly difficult, but I'm intrigued to see what people might think it is out of context. If you already have advance knowledge from Facebook, don't spoil it.

After the jump is a second photo. All guesses and descriptions are welcome...

Saturday in Los Angeles was one of those perfect, sunny Southern California days, and so when my friends Jash and Sly informed me that they were heading off to Silver Lake for the farmer's market, I was more than happy to tag along for fun. You see, I'm notoriously ineffective at farmer's markets. I tend to get overwhelmed with choices, eventually leading to a general central nervous system breakdown that leaves me confused, clammy, and just a tad sleepy. My biggest problem is that I'm a recipe guy. I have little to no cooking sense, and therefore I rely almost exclusively on other people's directions. That's why when I wander into a veritable bazaar of fresh produce such as the farmer's market, I rarely know what the hell to get. Sure, there are some no-brainers — corn on the cob is always welcomed. But do I need tomatoes? Or cucumbers? Or any number of the strange items being hawked by the farmers of California? I just don't know.

This trip to the farmer's market, however, proved to be surprisingly bountiful and inspriational. Not only did I come across a neat variety of herbs (which I eventually bought and planted — more on that later), but I stumbled upon the one thing I had been craving for about two months now: SOFT SHELL CRABS. Yes, those elusive yet delicious crustaceans are a true favorite of mine, and given that they're highly seasonal and rarely found here in Los Angeles, this turn of events elicited major, major excitement from me. I immediately called over Sly and Jash to show them my discovery, and they too became quite excited. I opted to buy two of the little, freshly-molted guys; Sly went for one; and Jash, who appreciated the situation, decided to sit this crabfest out.

And so we set a plan in motion: we would repair back to my abode and cook up the crabs for what would surely be a lunch to remember. Pictures — including some slightly graphic crab decapitation shots — after the jump...

The "It Don't Matter If You're Black or White" Cookie.

WIth millions of people around the world paying their last respects to Michael Jackson today, I felt it only appropriate to chime in with my own special tribute to the King of Pop. And what better way to pay homage than by cooking up some black and white cookies in honor of MJ's music, appeal, and, well, skin color. Consider this my loving sendoff.

As many of my friends (and now readers) know, I have a penchant for Korean food. Actually, I have a penchant for Asian food in general, and when I find myself a few drinks deep at the end of the night, I like nothing more than to venture into Los Angeles's famed K-Town (a.k.a. Koreatown) for some BBQ or tofu or pho (and yes, I realize pho is Vietnamese). Unfortunately, I can't always find a driver or willing participants for such activities, and such was the case Friday night when I found myself stranded at my apartment with no mode of transportation to ferret me to and fro the late night eateries just east of Western Avenue. What to do? Well, after calling three or four people, I took matters into my own hands. I strutted down to Ralph's, which is open twenty-four hours, and purchased a small jar of overpriced kimchi at 1:45 AM. I returned to my apartment, consulted a cookbook, and in about four minutes, I had a delectable late night snack.

Photos after the jump...

Oh hai!

Los Angeles has been undergoing a major fusion craze for a few months now, courtesy of Kogi's Taco Truck, which has made Asian tacos all the rage. I haven't actually partaken in Kogi-mania as the reported one hour lines (not to mention surly public relations staff) seem a bit much for a few meager tacos — especially when one can just as easily waltz into one of the many, many Korean eateries here in L.A.. Still, I respect the idea behind Kogi's taco truck, which is why last night, when I fired up some homemade Korean bbq of my own, I decided to change things up and go (drumroll please) FUSION!

Yes, that's right. I decided to forgo the taco truck experience and instead do my own thang. Truth was I already had some daeji bulgogi marinating in the fridge, and as dinnertime approached, I realized I didn't want to have the same old bowl of meat-on-rice. How to switch it up? Well, I'd throw a tortilla into the mix. And so the daeji bulgogi burrito was born. Well, not born. I'm sure others have made it. But this was its grand debut, as it were, in my kitchen. My creative process after the jump.

It's been a while since I've done an Adventure in Domesticity, but I figured that with the debut of The Next Food Network Star last night (starring one of my all-time favorite reality show judges, Susie Fogelson), I owed it to myself and the Food Network to whip up a meal based almost exclusively on their recipes. On the menu: five-spice sticky short ribs (courtesy of Aida Mollenkamp), celery root purée (courtesy of Anne Burrell and a dash of Ina Garten), and a chocolate tofu pudding (courtesy of Food Network foe Mark Bittman). Yes, it was quite the undertaking, but I felt confident I could do it.

So was I able to pull off this endeavor? Or would I be on the receiving end of a classic (read: ICY) Susie Fogelson zinger? Pictures after the jump...

Last weekend I returned from a rousing night out with my friends quite drunk and quite hungry, and in such situations, it's not uncommon for me to summon a sober party and request transport to the nearest late night eatery, particularly if it means venturing into Koreatown for some late night galbi, bulgogi, tofu, or pho. However, as I am trying to be thrifty of late, I decided I would make do with some drunken snacks of my own making. But what to have? My apartment has been a bit under-stocked recently, and the options for homemade vittles were few and far between. But then I got to thinking: I really wanted Korean food, and I had all these Korean ingredients in my fridge, and furthermore, I had just recently made this neat recipe for dinner that I could surely whip up again. And so it was decided: I would be cooking SQUID.

Yes, in a strange turn of events, I happened to have half a bag of frozen squid rings in the freezer. That was all I needed to get this party started. So even though I was probably in no state to be cooking, let alone near an open flame, I got out my wok and went to work. Photos of this most peculiar adventure after the jump...

Last week, I dialed back the exoticism with the cooking and attempted to make something very ordinary: pita bread. This was my first foray into the world of bread making, and while I know pita is sort of a lightweight entry in that category, I still wound up kneading and using yeast, which are two things I'd never really done before. I'll be honest: I was a bit scared. However, since I've become a convert to homemade hummus, I figured why not take the next step and go for homemade pita too. It would certainly be cheaper than store-bought. The question is whether or not it would be a wise use of time and effort. Results after the jump...

With swine flu making travel to Mexico ¡muy off limits!, my friends and I thought we'd bring some South of the Border action to Hollywood last night by whipping up a minor Mexican feast at mi casa. It all started when my friend Bets revealed that she had a bunch of avocados that needed to be used. This naturally led to guacamole fantasies, and from there, an entire menu was devised. On tap for us: guacamole, grilled corn salad with queso fresco and lime, and something called chilaquiles, which I soon learned was like a big, flat, casserole version of an enchilada — or Mexican lasagna as I termed it in my head (probably incorrectly because I'm sure there's something out there called Mexican lasagna already). Needless to say, we had our work cut out for us.

After the jump, photos of our cooking experience.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I received a message from my friend Bets, who had sent me a recipe for Indian pulled pork sandwiches. "Dude, make this. the picture alone sells me on it," she wrote. I glanced at the recipe: slow cooked pork? Indian spices? An excuse to use my dutch oven? I was sold. I told Bets I'd gladly oblige her request, but when? "Tonight," she wrote back eagerly. That worked for me. I had nearly all the ingredients (save mustard seeds). I told her to come on over, and next thing I knew, I was throwing an informal dinner party. On the menu: Indian pulled pork sandwiches with homemade potato chips on the side. In attendance: me, Bets, Lisa Timmons (from Socialite Life and lisatimmons.com, and eventually Jash. And on tap: lots of laughter and jolly good times.

But a question remains: would this third foray into pork be as successful as my other two? Pictures and details after the jump...

Oh, do I have a treat for all of you today! Behold the beauty that is Daeji Bulgogi!

As many of you probably know, I have a certain soft spot for Korean food. Basically, I love it. In fact, I purchased a Korean cookbook earlier this week, and I truly can't wait for it to arrive. Literally. I can't wait. That's why last night I up and cooked myself a wonderful Korean dish — the aforementioned Daeji Bulgogi. Up until about two years ago, I was a strictly beef galbi and beef bulgogi guy at the Korean restaurants (check out this post of me making galbi last summer). Then my friend turned me onto the wonderful world of daeji. For the uninitiated, daeji apparently means "pork," but if you assumed pork bulgogi is just like regular beef bulgogi, you'd be sorely mistaken. Daeji bulgogi has a completely different marinade. Well, it's not that different, but you'd certainly never confuse the two.

Anyway, when my friend encouraged me to try daeji bulgogi, I was skeptical that it could be as good as galbi or beef bulgogi. I quickly proven wrong. Daeji bulgogi is the shit (pardon my French), and I think I might even like it more than regular beef bulgogi. Can't say if it's better than galbi though. Those are fightin' words.

More daeji adventures after the jump...

If I do say so myself, on Sunday night I made quite the hearty meal. The menu was rather simple: pork milanese with a steamed artichoke on the side. However, what made this meal particularly noteworthy was that it was the first time I'd ever cooked pork (bad Jew, apologies). Fear not, though. The experience was delightful. And let's not overlook those artichokes. My friend Bets bought me two beauties at the Santa Monica Farmer's Market, and these bad boys were just too amazing to be denied. And so even though I've detailed my adventures with artichokes before (with a very similar menu, I might add), I decided to take pics again just because.

Photos of the cooking adventure after the jump...

About a week ago, some people came over to my apartment, and we had the most delightful time making what we later called (perhaps unoriginally) the Fresh Cocktail Hour. Basically, with the help of plenty of fresh produce from the Farmer's Market (not to mention some homemade horseradish), we made Bloody Marys, guacamole, and a lovely salad. Never before has getting drunk felt so healthy.

In attendance were Sly, her friend Aletheia, Tobin, IndianJones, and Brother of IndianJones (although, the Indians didn't arrive until the tail-end; so they barely should even get credit for being there — but I'll give IndianJones his tag regardless). Anyway, as there were multiple concoctions happening, we busted out the camera and documented it all (or as much as we could remember to). Pictures of the excitement after the jump...

Recently, I've become enamored by Mark Bittman's New York Times blog, Bitten, and last week, when I needed to make myself dinner, I decided to give one of his recipes a try. The attempt: chili-fried shrimp. A mixture of dried chilies, orange, scallions, and shrimp, this dish looked like it would be right up my alley — and none too hard to boot.

The results of this latest experiment after the jump...

The general rule of thumb is to never go into a supermarket hungry. Well, that's what I did earlier this week, and predictably I emerged with a food item that was perhaps not the most practical purchase of all time: a horseradish root. To be fair, I truly enjoy horseradish, and I'd wanted to make it ever since my mom told me how a few years ago, but I never got around to whipping up the lethal condiment because, well, there was never really any good reason for it. What am I going to do? Make a batch of horseradish for the fun of it? Well, turns out the answer is yes.

With hunger pangs overwhelming my better judgment, I decided that some fresh horseradish would be a LOVELY thing to make, even if it had limited applications. I procured the notorious tuber, fetched some vinegar, and then set off to make what would be a rather torturous dish. Tears and discomfort ensued...

Yesterday, I received a new dutch oven (technically a risotto pot), and in honor of this new, formidable piece of equipment, I knew I just had to braise something. But what? Well, I turned on the television, and there was Tyler Florence whipping up a pot roast. I wouldn't say that it's my favorite meal of all time, but there was a certain element of kismet that I couldn't deny in watching TAHLAH (as I've called him ever since an old Asian woman on his show yelled out his name in similar fashion). Anyway, I went off to the store, bought a two pound chuck roast, some veggies, and got to work.

The results? Well, they're after the break.

It's been a while since I've written about my cooking, but fear not, I'm still attempting all sorts of exotic dishes in my humble kitchen, and yes, most of them turn out bright orange. Case in point: this Brazilian Shrimp Stew recipe that I found on Epicurious. As most of my culinary adventures are inspired by television, this dish from south of the Equator came about in my attempt to whip something up in honor of Survivor's new season set in the Brazilian highlands. I was hoping to cook this for the season premiere, but, well, I didn't. Instead, I think I had some sort of spinach concoction (which was quite good, I should add. I'll have to publish that experience at a later date). Anyway, just because I was too lazy to cook this on the season premiere night didn't mean that I was going to give up on it altogether. I eventually got my act together and tackled the recipe — with quite delightful results, I might add. The photos after the jump...

Oops. I accidentally caused a minor conflagration in my toaster oven today when I took my eyes off some would-be pita chips for just a tad too long. Luckily, I've been classically trained in such emergency situations, and I knew to simply unplug the toaster oven and just sit there while the fire raged on quietly, destroying what could have been a wonderful display of pita goodness. It was a rare display of calm by me, as I've been prone to get all sorts of cowardly in the face of impromptu fires (and yes, I made sure to have my flour handy just in case things got out of hand). The good news is that aside from some dark residue on the oven door, there didn't seem to be much by way of damage. Nevertheless, this is an unfortunate blight on what was otherwise quite a perfect batch of pita chips.

To see the pita chips post-inferno, click ahead...

Last week, while doing a random search for some random thing, I came across a blog called Fat Free Vegan Kitchen, which boasted an appealing recipe for chocolate orange Bundt cake. Now, when it comes to desserts, I'm not a huge fan of fat free offerings as they're usually dry and flavorless, but the pictures on the site looked appealing, and the myriad of positive comments from various readers indicated that this recipe might just be above reproach. For whatever reason, I decided I was going to take on the fat free vegan cake — even though I'd never baked a cake that didn't come from a box (and I'd like to amend that I exclude cheesecakes and tartlettes from this proclamation as neither item requires much by way of rising). At best, I'd have a new recipe I could add to the canon — and one with no fat and zero cholesterol to boot. At worst, I'd have wasted my time but learned some valuable life lessons about baking, veganism, and the Internet.

The exciting and chocolaty journey after the jump...

My recent adventures in domesticity have been rather complex affairs involving multiple exotic ingredients and often a few hours of cook time. That's why I decided to simplify things with a less grandiose endeavor: hummus! This Middle-Eastern treat requires only a few elements: tahini, garbanzo beans, olive oil, salt, and garlic. How hard could it be?

This would be a piece of cake. OR WOULD IT?

After making shrimp piri piri last week, I found myself craving chiles, which is odd because it's never really been something I've ever craved before. Well, never one to ignore my desires, I did some research on Epicurious and came across an intriguing dish called "Adobo Chicken in Parchment." The recipe is fairly self-explanatory: make some adobo sauce, place it with some chicken in parchment paper, and steam it for two hours.

Sounded simple enough — and healthy too. Why not give it a whirl!

After spending an afternoon stewing half the ingredients in my kitchen to make Beef Rendang, I was in the mood last night to cook something up a bit easier. You know, like shrimp. Turns out last month while I was investigating African dishes for my failed attempt at a Survivor: Gabon tie-in, I came across a nifty South African dish on Epicurious.com called prawns peri peri (or piri piri, as it's also spelled). I contemplated cooking it up as the ingredients were far from demanding (prawns/shrimp, garlic, oil, lemons, chiles, etc.), but as part of the recipe, you've got to make a batch of peri peri sauce. Again, not very difficult at all (just add chiles, garlic and lemon rind to oil and shake), but I was afraid that after I made the dish, I'd be left with all this sauce and nothing to do with it. Nevertheless, I tabled the dish for the time being while I contemplated whether or not I wanted an extra bottle of peri peri sauce lingering around.

A few weeks later, I happened to catch that show Ask Aida on the Food Network, and lo and behold, she was making shrimp piri piri (hers were piri piri, not peri peri). Her recipe was somewhat different than the Epicurious one (not by much), but what attracted me to it were the amazing colors it seemed to have. You guessed it: vibrant orange — the magical color that all my food seems to take on these days. More importantly, Ms. Mollenkamp's recipe didn't require me to create a batch of piri piri sauce. I was sold.

My attempts to do the piri piri after the jump...

Just when you thought I was done cooking up ethnic food, here I come once again with another attempt to harness another culture in my humble kitchen. This time I took on the beast that is beef rendang, a Malaysian/Indonesian dish that seems to involve every spice under the sun. I was inspired by a commenter here who suggested I try it, and since I'd never heard of rendang, I looked it up on the internet. The more I read about it, the more delicious it looked. Therefore, I decided to give it a whirl on Thursday and see what I could pull off. The results? Well, you'll just have to read to find out.

Welcome to my culinary experiment!

Sadly, it is time for my orange-colored culinary journey around the world to conclude. It started in East Hampton, traveled across the Atlantic to The Gambia, headed west to Thailand, and now retreats back east a little to India, home country of my next endeavor, chicken tikka masala.

I was inspired to try this dish after my friend Eunnok whipped up a batch for himself and posted pics on Facebook. It looked delicious, and he confirmed that it indeed was. He forwarded me the recipe, one thing led to another, and voila, here I am with another Adventure in Domesticity.

My orange-colored culinary journey around the world continues! Last week, I detailed my attempts to make butternut squash soup and domoda. Now my cooking adventures take me from East Hampton and Africa all the way to Thailand as I deign to take on one of my favorite curry dishes: panang curry.

Sounds daunting. Will I be up for the challenge? The results after the jump...

For the past two or three weeks, I've been doing a lot of cooking at home, and you know what that means: time for another edition of Adventures in Domesticity! In fact, we'll be having several editions over the next week or so as I've tried my hand at several dishes — almost all of which were both international, and oddly enough, orange in color. Huh.

First up on my pumpkin-colored trip around the world was butternut squash, courtesy of the Hamptons. That's right, I decided to try out a recipe from Ina Garten's cookbook, Back to Basics. It was the least I could do after having waited for hours to get it autographed. My attempt valiant attempt to cook up the soup after the jump...

Since it's been rather cold here in Los Angeles, hitting lows of about 68°, I felt it was imperative that I cook myself a hearty meal for dinner last night. Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to use my new food mill. The menu: red wine braised sausage over a celery root puree. Needless to say, I've come a long way from the Hot Pockets that once defined my cooking abilities.

Here are some pictures from the adventure; although, I'll admit I took very few. I was too busy cooking/being hungry.

As my Big Brother posts decline in frequency, an inversely proportionate amount of cooking entries seem to be popping up on my blog. Such is the case with this latest adventure in domesticity in which I endeavored to cook an entire Rosh Hashanah meal all by myself. Why did I take on this mammoth feat? Well, it was Rosh Hashanah this past week, and I am Jewish; so immediately, there's that whole religious thing. But mostly, I was bored and in the mood for kugel, which for the uninformed is like a noodle pudding thing. Of course, what's the point of making kugel if you're not gonna have matzoh ball soup too? And so the whole thing snowballed from there. I invited over my usual gaggle of friends, anointed the evening "New Year, Jew Year," and let the rollicking good times ensue.

Photos of the culinary journey after the jump...

Last week, I brought you tales of Franco-Mexican fusion with my controversial brie quesadillas (with corn tortillas). Many close-minded people were shocked at the combination, and while not everyone can be as adventurous as I, surely there won't be as much of a massive outcry about my chocolate cheesecake, which has been a tried and true stalwart for years. Let me preface this by saying that I'm rather bad when it comes to baking and similar tasks of that ilk. However, since cheesecake requires little more than mixing a bunch of wet things in a bowl, it's something that I can pull off rather effortlessly. I've made this cake dozens of times, and what it lacks in presentation, it makes up for in taste. It's seriously really good.

Recipe after the jump!

When you're a blogger, you live life in the fast lane, and never was that more apparent than earlier this week when my friend Laura and I made quesadillas on the faux Foreman grill. Yes, it was a glamorous affair, full of multiculturalism and Pam Cooking Spray, and being the dutiful blogger that I am, I've decided to share this admittedly A-List event with all you readers out there on the Internets.

So here's the back story. With neither one of us having had dinner yet that night, Laura and I were getting quite hungry, but our third friend, Jenny, was en route with various snacks for a much hyped movie night (Stomp The Yard, natch). We didn't want to engage in a full meal, lest Jenny's snacks prove to be a meal unto themselves — in which case, we'd just nosh on those. But we didn't want to eat just nothing in case the snacks weren't sufficient enough to sate our monstrous appetites. As you can see, we were in a No Man's Land of hunger. What could we eat? Sandwiches seemed too big, cereal too out-of-place, curry too heavy, and garden burgers too frou-frou. And that's when I had an idea: how about quesadillas? Perfect! Not too filling, but certainly more satisfying than a light snack.

Of course, we faced a few limitations. First, the frozen corn tortillas I had were of low quality (leftovers from my taco experiments back in March). Second, the only cheese I had was a decidedly un-Mexican variety of brie. And third, Laura and I had never made quesadillas ever; so we were a bit like los ciegos leading los ciegos. Still, after having consulted with the Food Network website, we were resolved to make our corn-n-brie quesadillas to the best of our abilities. I manned the grill, Laura helmed the camera, and together, we embarked on an ethnic odyssey that was as exciting as it was educational.

Photos after the jump...

This past weekend, I stayed in on Saturday night, and in an effort to add a dash of excitement into the evening, I cooked up a nicer meal than usual. On the menu: chicken piccata with a steamed artichoke on the side. I was also going to whip up some chocolate tartlets for dessert, but I forgot to buy whole milk; so that addition had to be tabled. Anyway, culled from various recipes on the Food Network website, the meal was an unmitigated success. And of course, I took photos — although, my camerawork was spotty, and I managed to miss many vital steps along the way. Oh well.

This weekend, my friend had a barbecue and asked me to bring over some of that "Korean shit" that I've been known to make now and then. Yes, dear readers, it turns out that occasionally, I've been known to actually whip up a Korean barbecue marinade perfect for Galbi (or beef short ribs). I learned the recipe about three years ago when another friend of mine had a bbq and invited over his neighbor, an Asian woman who came with pounds and pounds of Galbi. Needless to say, it was delicious — just like the restaurants — and as I'm a huge, huge fan of Korean food, I asked her for the recipe. I don't make it too often (laziness), but the truth is that it's actually very simple, and it turns out perfectly each time.

Well, since my buddy requested the "Korean shit," how could I deny him? I headed over to the local Korean supermarket (a definitely bonus to living in LA), gathered up my ingredients, and went to work. And since I'm a compulsive blogger, I photographed the entire process (well, not the shopping). By the way, I should mention that everything in the recipe should be readily available in any supermarket. I only go to the Korean market because it's cheaper, and they sell mass quantities of short ribs cut the way I like them.

Anyway, a magical mystery tour of my Korean culinary adventures after the jump...

Last Friday, in an effort to save some money, I decided to stay in and watch the National Spelling Bee, thus turning down the many, many invitations I had received to go out to the hottest clubs and party with the city's celebrity elite. It was a hard decision, for sure, but sometimes even I must find refuge from the flashing lights and gliteratti. However, as exciting as watching awkward middle schoolers was, I still felt like the night needed some sort of augmentation — a little pizazz to keep things interesting. What better way to spice up the festivities than by making my first ever batch of muffins? After all, B-Side Blog reader SpecialK had so kindly purchased me a muffin tin after having seen my previously misshapen baking exploits; so why not put it to use?

And so with a shopping basket in hand and a dream in the heart, I happily bought a packet of mix and plunged down the rabbit hole that is homemade muffinry. Photos after the jump.

It's sort of funny that last night's Top Chef episode featured a taco challenge because I've spent the past week in a veritable taco-haze, eating those little nuggets of Mexican joy with reckless abandon. In fact, I'm in such a taco fever that I did the unthinkable: I tried to make some at home. The results were mixed.

Pictures of this grand culinary adventure, as well as some other Mexican-themed goodness, after the jump...

Recently, during my travels through the Internets, I came across a blog, Dessert First, that among other things, features a nifty section devoted to dessert recipes. Now, I'm no cook, and I'm certainly not a baker, but when I saw an entry devoted to chocolate tartlets, I became intrigued. Over the past few months, I'd become increasingly enamored with this simple pastry, and so it was with a ravenous curiosity that I clicked the link to see just how these tiny morsels of heaven are made. To my surprise, the recipe seemed startlingly easy —  so much so that I thought even I might be able to do it. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems though, and knowing this, I was sure to whip out my camera and document this culinary saga.