poor scientist. will blog 4 food.

the culinary adventures of a self-described foodie


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Tahoe!

The gorgeous view from our house.

As we’ve done in the past 3 years, our lab went to Tahoe and rented out an amazing house with a view of the Lake. The first night’s meal was Mexican/Latin-themed, where we had tacos, rice, and beans. SM, one of our rotation students who is also Mexican, actually called her aunt to get an authentic recipe for rice. Of course, there was a veggie option, but I definitely helped myself to some of DS’s awesome al pastor, which he describes as thus:

Ok, you know the “elephant leg” in turkish/greek/mid-east restaurants?
(AKA, gyros).  Al pastor is the Mexican version, possibly introduced by
Spaniards with Moorish ancestry(?).  The principal flavorings are
reconstituted dried chilies (Ancho, and the more pointy ones whose name I
can’t remember), onions, and pineapple.  The pineapple is placed on top of
the roasting, rotating meat stack, and in addition to sweet and sour, it
supposedly tenderizes the meat because of the papain, although I suspect
the protease is denatured by the heat and the tenderness has more to do
with cooking time.

I just put it in a pan with the pina on top.  It is not quite the same
thing- more a braise than a roast.

Final prep is to take a few slices and chop them on the hot plancha with
onions, then to the taco.  Cilantro a must.

DS's al pastor in a pan, with pineapple on top.

Even the lard from the al pastor looks darn tasty!

Some of us enjoyed caprihina cocktails before our meal. Here were the ingredients.

The next night, we had prime rib (again, made by DS) with brussel sprouts, salad, and baked potatoes. It was so delicious! I stuffed my face and went into immediate food coma.

Some of the toppings for our baked potatoes: scallions and bacon. Bacon!!

Doesn't this pan of brussel sprouts look amazing? Um, that's because THEY WERE.

My dinner plate. And the potato isn't even pictured.

And of course, there was also lots of skiing, hot-tubbing, game playing, and bourbon drinking. Yay fun lab ski trip!


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Food for Twenty

Every year, our lab takes a weekend trip to Tahoe.  We rent out a huge cabin with a hot tub (though last year, the hot tub didn’t work, hence the nickname “not tub”).  It’s a lot of fun, but also sort of crazy logistically, as we try to coordinate meals as a group.  This year, two of my colleagues did a great job organizing and buying all of the food and drink.  We ate like kings and drank like fish, all for a very reasonable fee.  Best of all, I didn’t have to do any of the cooking!

Cuddling up with a giant bottle of bourbon...

Cuddling up with a giant bottle of bourbon...

... while I cuddle up with a Costco size box of Cheez-Its.  Bigger than my head, of course.

... while I cuddle up with a Costco size box of Cheez-Its. Bigger than my head, of course.

Yes, we ate extremely well.

Yes, we ate extremely well.

Mashed potatoes (one of two pans).

Mashed potatoes (one of two pans).

Hitting the "meat ceiling" and food coma, simultaneously.

Hitting the "meat ceiling" and food coma, simultaneously.

On the way back from Tahoe, we stopped in Fairfield for lunch at the Blue Frog Grog and Grill.  I got a soup  and a chicken caesar salad (not pictured) which was good, but the best part of the meal was the fresh baked bread.

Warm bread and beer.  Mmm...

Warm bread and cold beer. Mmm...

The boytoy's mushroom cheeseburger

An overflowing mushroom cheeseburger

SP's steamed artichoke, served with roasted garlic mayo (not pictured)

SP's steamed artichoke, served with roasted garlic mayo (not pictured)


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KFC = Korean Fried Chicken

This just might be my most prolific blog week ever.  I’ve got a backlog of material and then Thanksgiving’s coming up… I hope you’re all ready for lots of food photos!

A couple of years ago, I read about a food trend that definitely got my attention (and my stomach rumbling): Korean fried chicken.  Apparently, this stuff was supposed to be what all fried chicken strives to be: juicy, flavorful meat surrounded by crunchy (but not too tough) breading.  I forgot all about this until I was talking to JL a couple months ago and she told me of a restaurant in Oakland that serves this mysterious delicacy.

Well, I don’t know why it took us so long to experience Korean fried chicken, but we finally got around to it this past Saturday.  Oriental BBQ Chicken Town (no joke — that’s what it’s really called) is located in North Oakland, ironically between a KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) and RFC (Rockridge Fuel Center).  Unlike the other Korean restaurants I’ve gone to that offer traditional meals, OBCT serves the equivalent of Korean bar food — fried snacks to accompany copious amounts of soju and beer.  With four friends in tow, we ordered 3 huge plates of fried chicken and one order of garlic fries.  No veggies, no noodles, nothing.  We were serious about our chicken!

A beer about the size of my head... and frosted beer mugs.  Bonus!

A beer about the size of my head... and frosted beer mugs. Bonus!

Upon closer inspection...

Upon closer inspection... Fresh taste beer!

Garlic fries.  Very tasty.

Garlic fries. Very tasty.

The original recipe.  Comes with cabbage and mustard.

The original recipe. Comes with cabbage and mustard.

Spicy & sweet fried chicken hot out of the fryer (check out the steam).

Spicy & sweet fried chicken hot out of the fryer (check out the steam).

Garlic and soy fried chicken, also with cabbage.

Garlic and soy fried chicken, also with cabbage.

So what’s the verdict?  Korean fried chicken is the bomb.  It wasn’t the best fried chicken I’ve ever had, but it’s definitely up in the top 5.  Also, I enjoyed the different variations.  I think the garlic and soy was my favorite.  Another bonus is that most pieces are boneless so it’s easier to eat.  Interestingly, they fry with olive oil, so at least I wasn’t clogging my arteries with partially hydrogenated oil.

The downside?  I think we should have ordered some more non-meat items.  Next time, rice stick (thick noodles covered with red sauce) will definitely be on my list.  My fellow diners and I all scarfed down the first few pieces of chicken.  Around piece #5 or 6, we came to a halt.  We arrived at what I term the “meat ceiling.”  It’s when you can’t swallow another bite of meat… even though you might still be hungry.

Hitting the meat ceiling.

Hitting the meat ceiling.