The final BIF submission is by MikeS, and I said, its a doozy:
First; apologies for my tardiness both in shipping and in getting everything drank drunk drinked quaffed. Life got in the way.
ron73440 sent me some really good beer as well as some nice swag; including a pint coozie that has already seen a fair share of use. I don’t have the palate of a professional reviewer, so bear with me.
Here we go…Glibs beer tasting; “Life on the Farm Edition”:
No, this is not George Jones’ lawn tractor.
O’Connor Green Can Golden Ale
Crisp and clean. Refreshing. Mild citrus aftertaste. Good lawn mower beer. If you have a friend who refuses to drink anything other than BMC, and you live by O’Connor, have them try this. 3.7/5
O’Connor Norfolk Canyon Pale Ale
Very similar to Green Can, just more hops. Decent. Passable PA. I’m sure PA fans would like it. 3.1/5
Three Notch’d Hydraulion Red
Nice reddish-gold color. Can’t explain taste very well. A tish sweet…caramel notes? Damn good. 4.1/5
Midnight Brewery Rockville Red Irish Red Ale
Slightly different than the Hydraulion. Not as much sweet (not that the Hydra’ was overly sweet). A little more carbonation. A little less flavor than the Hydra’. Honestly, a little bland. 3.2/5
Belhaven Scottish Ale
Good beer. A little sweet. Smooth. What is that I’m tasting…malt I think? Like the malt in a malted milk. Not a lot, just a touch. And the faintest bit of dryness on the backend. This is going down pretty quick. I like this beer. 4.3/5
Midnight Brewery Not My Job English Brown Ale
Not bad. Almost “light” considering it’s a brown ale. This is one of those beers that would shock your friends who think all dark beers can be cut with a knife. But there is something there I don’t quite like…a dryness at the end. It’s not a deal breaker, just not what I expected. 3.5/5
O’Conner Odis Black as Sin Stout
First off; I tried shining a very bright light through the glass. No go. This is black as an IRA bomb maker’s soul. First taste was like toast dipped in coffee…without the soggy grossness. So far I’m digging it. Not a heavy beer like some stouts can be. It’s an approachable beer for people who like craft beer, but think they don’t like dark beer. 3.6/5
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In honor of MikeS, I wanted to make sure the one I featured today, was something he could find in his neck of the woods. After all, most of his comments on my articles contain some variant of the words “I,” “can’t,” “find,” and “that.” In that order. Let’s just say I was feeling a bit ironic while completely ignoring the definition of ironic.
So Pabst went and made a Pale Ale? I must confess, I went into it assuming it was going to smell like urine. I don’t know about anyone else around here, but I for one am familiar with the scent of urine, and this my friends does not smell like urine. This is a bit overhopped in the style preferred by the hipsters this product is aimed at. Now whatever hops they picked for this doesn’t seem to suit the style of beer, but that’s okay. This isn’t going to win any blue ribbons, unless the participant ribbons nowadays are blue.
The question is….Can MikeS find this at his local merchant of mind altering beverages? Pabst American Pale Ale: 2/5.
As usual, this is based on various recipes found elsewhere, then adapted for my purposes and tastes. You may want more (or less) sugar than we prefer.
If you are making this for an “ethical vegan,” you will want to use organic sugars. Otherwise, regular sugars will work fine.
You will need to chill the coconut cream overnight before you start. When you purchase it, just pop it into the fridge and it will be ready whenever you need some.
1. Chill the coconut cream or milk for 8-24 hours. You are going for the separation of the milk and fat, so don’t shake or tilt the can once you place it in the fridge.
2. Once thoroughly chilled, open the can carefully and scrape out the thickened cream, leaving the thin liquid in the can for another use.
3. Place the cream in a mixing bowl and beat for 20 seconds or until creamy. Add the powdered sugar and vanilla and mix until thoroughly combined and smooth.
4. Place the bowl in the fridge until ready to use. This keeps well for a week or even more!
Food history shows generally fall into two categories: those that focus on cooking with a side of history, and those that focus on history as told through food. I’d like to recommend three series that focus on history with a side of food.
First, is The Supersizers (hat tip to Lafe Long), available on YouTube. It seems to be two series, The Supersizers Go and The Supersizers Eat. The hosts are Giles Coren and Sue Perkins. The show is focused on food culture throughout British history. There are a few partial cooking demonstrations (watch a chef sew a bird’s head onto pig’s body), and they do discuss changes throughout time. For example, shifts in food due to the introduction of spices like nutmeg or the increased availability of sugar.
The hosts eat the diet of a particular era, such as Roman or Edwardian, for a week. Like Morgan Spurlock’s Supersize Me, the two get checked out by a doctor before and after embarking on their new diet. (What should they expect from drinking all that booze during the Elizabethan era?) They dress in period costumes – Sue Perkins continues to wear her nerdy, black, hipster glasses even when wearing a toga – and sit down to eat a table set in period style. They eat off trenchers (a piece of bread) in a number of episodes because plates weren’t in use yet. The series is silly and fun and full of bite sized pieces of culinary history.
Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner with Clarissa Dickson Wright is more substantial fare. This three part series is also available on YouTube. Each episode focuses on a different meal and she explores how trade and technology have influenced and changed what and how we ate each meal. As in The Supersizers, the show has little in the way of cooking demonstrations, but we do see what a meal would look like and she gives a more erudite discussion of the culture surrounding food. It defintely kept my interest.
Food: A Cultural Culinary History is a banquet of information. It is available through the Great Courses channel on Amazon Prime (you can get a trial membership to binge this series). I had never watched a Great Courses series before and I’m not sure what I expected. Perhaps a Ken Burns style documentary with pictures and voice-over, or maybe something more like the History Channel with its badly acted re-enactments. Nope.
It is just a chubby guy in a suit, standing there talking. And I was riveted. This a survey of the history of the world told through food and culture. It covers the impact of trade and technology on what and how we eat from pre-history to modern times. Ken Ablala is master lecturer. He does throw in the rare, amateur food demonstration; charoset, penitent’s salad, and sushi. If you watch no other series, watch this one.
So, what did I learn? Well, two things I’d like to share. First, no matter what time period you consider, or what diet people followed, someone will passionately insist it’s wrong. And, not only is that diet physically unhealthy, it is morally unhealthy and anyone who eats that way is a bad person. (Shakes finger.) This, of course, creates an opportunity for the governing institutions of church and state to intervene. For example, during the middle ages, the Catholic Church designated nearly half the year as ‘fast days’ which meant eating fish. Even after England’s break with the church, the government (particularly the Elizabethan government) continued to require fast days – mostly to support the English naval fleet. By fishing, they retained their seaman skills and supported themselves, without the crown having to pay for a navy – thrifty. So, when someone tells you that people used to eat a lot more fish, just remember that it wasn’t necessarily by choice. The weird categorization of things as fish (beaver tails) demonstrates that people were not necessarily excited about eating fish, fish, and more fish.
Second, I have long considered cooking to be a basic life skill. I confess to being a bit condescending to those who complain about having to cook. To me, its not that hard, and how else are you going to feed yourself? Do you expect someone else to cook for you? Well, actually, for much of history, yes. Most people didn’t cook. Cooking for one’s self or one’s own family is a relatively modern practice. And, as an economist, once the reasoning for why this was dawned on me as I was watching these shows, I felt pretty stupid.
Abigail Adams by Gilbert Stuart Cooking utensils (especially metal utensils) and a hearth designed for cooking (or later a stove) were expensive. The Roman populace couldn’t afford to have their own ovens. They took their grain to the baker, who would mill the grain and bake the bread for them. During medieval times, if you worked for the king, or even a local lord, you didn’t cook. You ate in the hall and someone else cooked for you. Peasants working in the field would bring their grain and vegetables to the field with them and it would be cooked in a communal pot.
In colonial America, Abigail Adams and her husband were wealthy people. She didn’t have her own bread oven. It was too expensive, and not just because of the capital investment, but because of the cost of fuel. Instead, she took her dough to the baker and rented time in his oven.
During industrialization, dormitories with eating halls were common for workers. Well into the 1950s, unmarried working people who moved to the city for work lived in boarding houses that provided meals. Even today, we largely expect college students to live in a dormitory and eat in a cafeteria. Mostly due to the cost of renting and furnishing an apartment.
Education should always change us and my foray into culinary history has made me even more willing to ignore the ever changing diet advice. It has also tempered my attitude toward those who don’t cook. In the big picture of history, not cooking isn’t that odd.
Before I begin, lets get it out of the way since it comes up from time to time:
Am I Mexican? No, I am not from Mexico, but my family originates from a town split by the Gadsden Purchase. I happen to descend from somebody that resided on the north side. I am no more Mexican than any of you who happen to know which country your (great…) grandparents got of the boat from and lived in a neighborhood populated entirely by immigrants from the same country. Ultimately, the avatar is a reference to a character from 3:10 to Yuma.
Now for the part that was actually questioned:
I am not Carlos Hathcock, but I think I mastered basic marksmanship. Pistol (left) and Rifle (right).
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Control your breathing…
Cool?
The grocery store in my neighborhood was closing down. For some reason, the clerk explained, the lease Safeway held for the last 30 years was not renewed. This meant that everything was 25% off.
Everything?
Yes, everything. Including things I normally think are likely too expensive for what they are. Other things included brisket, scotch whiskey, artichokes, frozen salmon…
This is my review of Cigar City Brewing Jai Alai IPA:
I always thought this was some kind of extreme handball. Originating in the Basque region of Spain where players simply caught and threw a ball against a wall in the church courtyard, later evolved into an actual sport. If you were at all a part of the social scene in South Florida during the 70s, you were watching Jai Alai (pronounced Hī a Lī). The sport is almost dead today, but interest spiked about ten years ago when back in the day, the Most Interesting Man in the World made a few gamblers happy.
Part of the reason it died out was a players strike that lasted three years, and Whitey Bulger whacking the World Jai Alai president. It is a sport people gamble on after all…but in all fairness gambling is probably the biggest reason people still play it.
The Fronton: That is the front wall. It is made from granite for reasons to be touched on shortly. The arena itself, called the Cancha, is composed of the granite Fronton, a back, and left walls each made from concrete. There is no wall to the right, but there is an out of bounds line and a fence to protect the crowd. There is also a foul area on the Fronton itself, that is made from a different material and makes a different sound when struck. Foul balls are not playable.
The Cesta: This is the big curved basket worn on the right hand. Each is made from woven wooden reeds grown in the Pyrenees. It is attached via a leather glove to the right hand of the player and fastened together with a leather strap called a ‘cinta.’ The Cesta allows the player to both catch and throw the ball in “one fluid motion” as required by the rules. Judges are stationed to make sure the player does not hold the ball, and throws it fluidly. It is also handy for putting a wicked spin on the ball to outwit your opponents.
Are you left handed? You may play Jai Alai with your right hand. Because of the way the Cancha is set up, it is too dangerous to play left handed for both spectators and players. Consequently, no Cesta will be made for a left hand. If you want an advantage in a dangerous sport by being wired up backwards—stick to boxing.
The Pelota: That means ball, en Español. The ball itself is made from a metal core, hard wound Brazilian rubber, string, and wrapped in goatskin. It is approximately ¾ the size of a baseball, or similar to a lacrosse ball should you actually be familiar with a lacrosse ball. One thing to take away; it is harder than a golf ball and hurled at speeds averaging 150-180 mph. The pelota is exchanged at 15 minute intervals and the cover replaced because of how quickly it gets worn out in a game. This is why the Fronton is made from granite; the ball would otherwise tear apart other materials. Yes…I am linking this site as a reference.
The rules: Ever watch prison inmates play handball in the yard? That’s pretty much it, just without the stabbings. Here’s a good rundown.
So is it any good? If you happen to like heavy citrus IPA, yes. This is more orange/tangerine rather than the overpowering grapefruit variety that everyone loves to hate. Not my first choice but it does pique my interest in Cigar City’s other offerings, should any ever become available near me. Cigar City Jai Alai IPA: 3.5/5
Dearest Glibertariat, as some of you may know (or not), every day is a national day of something, to the point where the entire concept almost becomes empty…like my glass…right this second *runs off to fix that*, but what you need to know is that July 24th–TODAY–is national tequila day, and I can think of no better reason to clear some space off of your shelf and celebrate the pluralism of ‘murrica by drinking something that cannot be legally produced here! I have recruited the Boyfriend (henceforth TBF) to help me drink a bit of every tequila in my home and asked the other Glibs to join in with their notes on such an effective beverage.
My portion of this is storied including a reposado that I received as a gift for marrying a couple who met on TOS, a bottle given to me by my aunt and destroyed by a theater major 14 years ago, a couple of bottles that my roommate LOVES and a bottle of mezcal that she declines to finish, so I’ll be helpful. We’ll be rolling through easiest to hardest to drink.
This has a special place in my heart. 15 years ago my aunt gave me this bottle, which I saved for New Year’s Eve. I brought this and a bottle of OJ, took the first sip of the tequila and gave the OJ to someone who had a bottle of vodka and looked lost…it made her night and I proceeded to drink the Casa Noble straight all night until a theater major cracked the cork into the bottle and I—most of the bottle deep at this point, and quite possibly stoned (things are fuzzy here)–proceeded to spend the night enjoying it in reverse. Because of the corking it’s sat on a shelf for years and I’m using today as an excuse to try it again.
TBF: You goofed. I can tell this was good once but it’s oxidized to shit. All the flavors are muted to the point of being uninteresting. I’m getting some wood and leather, it’s like drinking Jesus’s sex dungeon, but it’s incredibly smooth.
Jesse: [glumly] I goofed. *pours out the rest of the bottle with chunks of cork floating in it, contemplates buying a new bottle because it was that good…even at this price point.
I’m pairing these together because they were similar. The reposado was a bit softer than the Añejo, which we found surprising, and the reposado was a bit simpler with the Añejo having a more complicated and more bourbon-ey profile.
TBF: *cracks reposado bottle open* HELLOOOO SPRING BREAK. This is all very agave, very drinkable, but not a ton of complexity. This screams going to a frat party in your sweatpants senior year of college. This is why your roommate’s margaritas are so good. I just thought she was skilled. *tries the añejo* way more complex, more vanilla and bit harsher. The bourbon notes ask the question “Jesse, why are you making me drink tequila when you have bourbon in your house?” This is a frat party in sweatpants in KY.
Jesse: If we kill off everything below [the reposado] and make this the plastic jug tequila the world will be a better (or maybe worse) place. Still sippable but we’ve definitely stepped down a tier from the Clase Azul and Casa Noble [circa 2004]. The añejo is good, but I’m happier with the reposado *has more reposado*.
Kinda the oddball here. I hoped TBF would enjoy it since he likes Islays. My roommate decided it was undrinkable and I’ve been chipping away at it for a while.
TBF: This smells like nail polish and smoke. It’s like a structure fire at a nail salon off the nose. *Sips* Do moonshine distilleries explode like meth labs? You know what, they probably do. That’s what I’m getting from the flavor. Can we go back to the Clase Azul?
Jesse: I’m getting more smoke and less “Vietnamese women perishing in a fire”. It’s got a warm front, extremely bland middle and smoky/spicy finish. It’s surprisingly easy drinking for how smoky it is, but not particularly interesting. I’m definitely circling back to the Clase Azul.
My double post format last week inadvertently confused people. SP and I thought it was funny, but since readers were confused, I’m combining the two posts I had planned for this week into one post.
I wanted to be able to take some photos for you today, but the janky apartment building I live in lost power when I rebooted my computer, and the landlord took hours to show up to fix it.
About the Japanese Edition
I have always been simultaneously fascinated and perplexed by Japanese culture. The town I grew up in has a fabulous Japanese cafe where all the meals are cooked by a little Japanese grandma.
When my ex and I moved to California, we first lived with his brother and his roommates, who were all very much into Japanese culture. One of their best friends was a computer programmer at Apple who immigrated from Japan. Once a week he took us all out to a different Japanese restaurant. We spent a lot of time in Japanese Town in San Francisco.
My husband is very much into Japanese culture, knows enough of the language to get by, and watches a lot of Japanese shows. We recently finished all three seasons of Shokugeki No Soma, the first two seasons of Overlord, and we’re currently in the middle of watching Hozuki No Reitesu, Kimi No Todoke, and Great Teacher Onizuka.
I know there are Glibs who know much more about Japanese culture and cuisine than I do, so this post isn’t so much about dishes I have made before, as it is about dishes I want to try. I look forward to reading comments from the community with suggestions!
So without further ado…
If I weren’t vegan…
Donburi
There is something magical about donburi. It could be a whole post in and of itself. Donburi is a perfect one dish meal, much like a Buddha Bowl, and there are so many different varieties of dons that you could eat a new don every day and not get bored.
Crispy fried Japanese chicken beats out every other fried chicken I’ve ever had. Soy and ginger come together to create a flavourful chicken dish that’s impossible to quit eating. Karaage goes great on its own, inside a bento box, or topping a donburi.
Delicious. Beefy. Teriyakiy. And super easy. What’s not to love?
Something I really love about beef teriyaki is it keeps well in the fridge, and you can easily add the leftover beef (if there is such a thing) to a donburi.
This recipe from Rasa Malaysia is not the most authentic, but it’s quick and easy. If you want to go for something more authentic, check out the Japanese Food Report where they go through the process and the glaze.
Fukusazushi
I love wrapping food inside other food, and this is no exception. This dish uses a thin omelette as the wrapper. Wrap up meat and veggies inside eggy goodness, and you have healthy food on the go.
And if you’re interested in seeing how a master makes Japanese omelettes, watch this.
But since I am vegan…
Ginger Sesame Soba Noodles
I have a thing for soba noodles. I only recently discovered (thanks to the Shokugeki anime) there are many different types of soba, and it’s based on what part of the buckwheat is used.
One of my favorite meals from the little Japanese cafe in my hometown is soba salad. I crave it. I have dreams about it.
I like to take this vegan recipe from This Savory Vegan and put the noodles on a bed of cabbage and top with fried tofu.
Vegan Onigiri
The Japanese are great at finger foods. Onigiri is a brilliant finger food. These are rice balls wrapped with nori and traditionally stuffed with some sort of meat, but this vegan recipe happily omits the meat so I can eat it.
I intend to experiment with creating a peanut tofu onigiri, but til that day comes, this recipe from Green Evi will satisfy any vegan’s onigiri craving.
Daikon Steaks
Daikon Steaks
I have no idea what this is really called in Japanese, but it is delicious. My husband says it’s one of the best dishes I’ve ever made.
1 large daikon, peeled
fresh ginger, chopped
green onions, chopped
1tbsp butter alternative (or just butter if you’re not vegan)
variable ingredients:
The exact amount of these ingredients will vary based on how much broth and sauce you make.
soy sauce
nori
mirin
sake (rice vinegar will work in a pinch)
1. Cut the peeled daikon into 2-3” segments. With paring knife, round the edges of the daikon. This is really important, and it took me a couple attempts at this dish to figure it out. Daikon is mostly water, and as it cooks the middle will shrink, leaving a raised edge around the side, and that will be the part that gets caramelized.
2. Add the daikon to a bowl and cover in a broth of equal parts water and soy sauce. Add ginger and nori. Daikon tends to float, so you may want to keep a spoon on top of the daikon to keep it under the surface so its thoroughly marinated. I marinated for several hours.
3. Turn a non-stick pan on high and let it get nice and hot. You’ll know it is ready when you add a couple drops of water to the pan and they sputter.
4. Add the daikon in the center of the pan. The water should start to exude from the daikon. Cook until slightly brown on the bottom and flip. When browned on both the top and the bottom, turn the heat down, add the broth, and cook over medium heat until the daikon is cooked throughly. It should be browned on the top and bottom and really soft to the touch. How long this takes will depend on how thick the daikon is.
5. Remove the daikon to the plate. In the pan add butter alternative. I use Earth Balance. Melt the “butter.” Add a quarter cup of soy sauce, a quarter cup of sake, and a quarter cup of mirin. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thickened. You should have about a quarter cup of sauce. I use a quarter cup of sauce per two daikon steaks. Scale up the sauce based on how many daikon steaks you’re making. The sauce should be salty, creamy, and a little sweet.
6. Drizzle the daikon with the sauce and top with fresh green onions. You can garnish with sesame seeds if you have them.
Marinated Onion Potato
I don’t know what this is actually called. This goes really well with the daikon steaks. The recipe makes one serving. Scale accordingly.
1 large white potato, peeled
1/4 cup of white onion, cut in very thin slivers
1/2 cup of soy sauce
1/4 cup of sake
1 tbsp mirin
1/2 cup of water
butter alternative to taste
1. Mix the soy sauce, sake, mirin, and water into a broth. Add the peeled potato and marinate for at least an hour.
2. Add cool water to a bowl, and add the white onion. Rub the white onion between your finger tips to break up the membrane. This helps remove some of the bite.
3. Heat a small pot of water, and boil the potato until it’s cooked.
4. Remove the potato from the water and put into a bowl. Add the onion and the onion water, 2 tbsp of broth, and mash together with a fork. Add the butter alternative, and continue to mix, and then serve.
Back in May, I discussed how to make dressing – the most low stakes item you could make. Today, I’d like to talk about what you should put that dressing on. I showed you a wedge salad and provided recipes for both a spinach salad and a green salad.
Green Salads
Let’s start by thinking about what makes a great green salad. A great salad should be colorful, have a variety of textures and a balance of flavors: salty, sweet, sour, bitter and savory or umami. Think about the classic salads like a Caesar salad or a spinach salad or a Greek salad. The Caesar has the green of the lettuce, the crunch of the croutons and the creamy dressing. The anchovies and parmesan add a touch of salt and savory. The spinach salad has crispy lettuce, soft eggs and crunchy bacon. Both the mushrooms and bacon add umami. The Greek salad is colorful and gives a wide variety of tastes with the salty feta, lettuce, onions, and oily and slightly bitter olives.
I think the green salad recipe I gave you in the salad dressing post is a nice template for a good salad. It has the green and dull red lettuce and the bright, sweet cherry tomatoes. The pine nuts add some crunch and the dressing is a touch sour from the lemon.
Keep these things in mind as you make a green salad. I like to use a mix of lettuces. Adding radicchio adds a pronounced touch of bitterness. To counter that, I often add dried fruit – raisins, dried cherries, or dried cranberries, even sun-dried tomatoes. I also like to play around with crunchy elements like nuts or roasted chickpeas (Drain a can and toss with olive oil and spices. Bake in a 400 degree oven until crispy, about 20-30 minutes stirring half way through.) Add shredded carrots, jarred roasted red peppers, or halved cherry or grape tomatoes for a hint of sweetness. I also sometimes add roasted veggies like artichokes or Brussels sprouts. Pickled vegetables work well, I like pickled mushrooms or grapes or cherries.
Salad Add-ins
If you want your salad to be a main dish, add roasted chicken or grilled salmon. If you toss in apples, celery and walnuts, it is reminiscent of a Waldorf salad. Capers and olives have a nice briny taste. Add jalapenos, seasoned ground meat and crushed tortilla chips for a taco salad. Cheeses like Parmesan, cheddar and feta all add a bit of umami to the salad. Using a balance of flavors makes you want to take another bite.
Now that you have all these items, stop a moment and edit. The salad I gave you in the dressing post has one element for bitter (lettuce), one for sweet (tomato), one for umami (Parmesan), and one for sour (dressing). It is pretty minimal. A good salad shouldn’t be something of everything you have in the fridge. I don’t like Cobb salad for this reason. The Greek and chef’s salad are pushing it for me. Just too much stuff. Your line will be different. You should experiment to find it.
Salads aren’t limited to various lettuce concoctions, of course. Here are two more possibilities.
Salmon salad
This salmon salad is inspired by “Eat This Not That” grilled salmon salad. It uses grilled salmon, red onions, and cherry tomatoes, green beans or asparagus (or both, why not), capers, and I add a hard boiled egg.
Salmon Salad
First, slice a few red onions and put it in some red wine vinegar. Both red onions and shallots benefit from being soaked in vinegar. It mellows them out. Grill the salmon and either green beans or asparagus. Add a little dijon mustard to the red wine vinegar and onions and whisk. Add salt and pepper to taste. When the salmon and vegetables are done; chop. Add a little extra virgin olive oil to red wine vinegar and whisk. Then add the salmon and grilled vegetables. Lastly, add a few cherry or grape tomatoes and a sliced hard boiled egg and toss. This salad is just as good cold, so I make at least two servings and set some aside to take for lunch.
Roasted Vegetable Salad
I also like to make roasted vegetable salads. Again, this is something I actually make more than one serving. Roasted veggies are good both hot and cold, so I eat one serving hot as dinner and take the second serving to work for a lunch. You could also toss in a green salad. Paired with a crusty bread, cheese and a good wine, this is a satisfying summer dinner.
Roasting Veggies
I’m always interested in what everyone else is making. Here are two that intrigued me (if I missed including your salad, I apologize).
He uses soba noodles, shredded cabbage, carrots, scallions, red peppers and snow peas and dresses it with a peanut butter dressing made of peanut butter, soy sauce, siracha and vinegar. It’s been added to my rotation. I am in love with this. It offers so many possibilities for experimentation. It’s delicious, as is, but, of course, I can’t resist experimenting with it. So far, I have added leftover pork to the noodles and garlic and fresh grated ginger to the dressing.
Western Sloper’sSimple Summer Salad uses peeled and sliced cucumbers, halved cherry tomatoes, red onion, kosher salt, olive oil and sumac. Serve chilled. I’m going to have to go to the middle eastern market and see if I can find sumac. I’ve never tried it before. I recommend salting the onion before mixing in the rest of the ingredients. It will have a similar effect to soaking it in vinegar and remove some of the harshness.
I mentioned to everyone I went to Mexico right? No big surprise.
From where I am, it’s only a 3-4 hour drive depending on whether or not you follow Mexican traffic laws. To be honest the route I take goes through something called a “hassle free zone”, but I have seen Federales there so I’m not about to chance it. I keep it around three times the speed limit.
This is my review of New Belgium The Hemperor.
On my way there I received a voicemail in a town I never have signal.
“Hi this is Kelly from Swiss Corpse International Industries.” I guess Anna didn’t last a week.
“Swiss wants me to relay a message to you. He says, ‘the Old Man and the Sea will find you in Mexico. I can’t read this….it isn’t very nice.”
“It’s not meant to be nice!” I thought I heard in the background.
“He also wanted me to relay the message, ‘thanks for nothing, asshole, now I’m going to Neverland to find…Steve Smith?’”
“Neverland?” I asked myself out loud.
“Netherlands! Its crystal clear, read the damn memo!” I heard in the background. Oh no, this call was recorded for training purposes. “Netherlands, its where the Dutch people live!”
“I thought Dutch was what Germans called themselves?” She asked.
That’s one way to get a Narrowed Gaze on your first day at work.
The voicemail continued. “…um…Swiss…wants….wants” Her voice was trembling. “…he wants you to know that you signed a contract, next time read the fine print, ha ha ha ha….ha. He really wanted that last one. Five ha’s. Just go along with what they say. I know how much you hate…Argentines? Do I really have to say that last one?”
“Just fucking do it.” I definitely heard Swiss yell faintly in the background.
“…so this really benefits you. They have too much on you. It’s not worth fighting it, don’t be stupid…” The voicemail ended.
They can’t find me in Mexico. It’s a fishing turned resort town populated by Sammy Hagar types and a few Jesse Ventura type retirees. Both constantly complaining about the government but completely ignore the ridiculous overreach the Mexican government takes on a daily basis. Apparently, police presence in the form of machine gunners in the back of a pickup truck is okay, because you get a discount on your taxes if you pay them three months early…..
“They can’t find me, there’s too many Mexicans. I blend in.” I reassured myself. I put the phone in the glove box and finished gassing my car.
_____
“Room no ready yet.” The woman at the concierge desk informed me. “Come back one hour, need clean.”
“Thank you.” I assumed I can probably find something to do for an hour.
_____
“Necesitamos limpian su cuarto. Damos una otra hora, por favor.” The man at the concierge desk informed me an hour later.
“Muchas gracias.” I guess I can probably find something else to do for an hour.
_____
“Esta aqui. Trescientos quince.” Finally, they handed me a key to room 315. The concierge looked hauntingly at the back corner, and handed me an envelope. I turned and saw a shadowy figure wearing a hoodie in the corner, under the AC duct of course.
He pointed at the figure and the envelope and shuffled off to the back room waving his hands in the air. Clearly not wanting anything to do with either the hooded figure or the envelope. I opened it.
“Pollos.”
You have to be kidding me. I turned it over and looked back for the hooded figure. He was gone.
“Just kidding, LOL. We’re at Playa Bonita, it’s easy to find. The only white house on the point near the tide pools.”
I knew the house. It has that ‘drug lord’ vibe to it, with its high walls, iron gates and the enormous dog walking around the property. It seemed a little too out of place but left intentionally in plain sight.
“Come by at 4:20. Bring a dessert.”
I decide to take Swiss’ advice and not fight it…yet. As I drove down the dirt road I noticed a number of ultralight aircraft landing in the dry basin, exchanging small items and taking off towards the sunset.
I pulled up to the house and dismounted. I pushed the blue button on the intercom.
Bzzzzzz
“Good afternoon. You’re right on time.”
“I try to be.” I answered back, not having anything better to say.
“What’s in the box? It’s a dessert right?”
I held up the pink box I got from the panaderia in town from the baker with one arm. “It’s a tres leches cake.” I replied. “Con fresas. Last one he had.”
The cast iron gates to the compound slowly opened and stopped just wide enough for me to squeeze through. Ever wary of the enormous dog attacking me in the courtyard, I approached the pristine, white house.
_____
The house itself had clean, white walls. The floors were wall to wall saltillo tile as was typical in this part of the world, arranged in a visually stimulating hexagonal mosaic. Imposing columns with a tasteful, off-white texturing held up the vaulted ceiling. This was designed intentionally to be intimidating.
“Good afternoon…mexican sharpshooter.” A voice echoed from within the hallway. I turned and saw a comparatively smaller man than I. Not a dwarf, but certainly nobody that would be confused with Warty. He had a black, but graying beard that appeared to have never been trimmed, but was well kempt and combed to tuck neatly under the chin. He was wearing a white, loose fitting garment with sleeves that covered both his hands while they were in a gently closed position. His arms were not crossed. The garment appeared to be painstakingly obvious it was made from a single source of crisp, linen fiber.
This man was very familiar with the Laws of Leviticus.
“It’s rather dusty outside. Please, remove your shoes.” He said. I noticed he too was barefoot, and obliged. “Can I interest you in a glass of Romanian wine?” He motioned to a room with a glass door; hundreds of bottles of wine were neatly placed on wooden racks. With a child, aged 12, inside dutifully turning one a half turn.
“I’d like that, however I am not a wine drinker. Please don’t waste anything ‘good’ on my account.” I replied, removing my shoes.
“Left shoe first.” He said.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
“I SAID—take off your LEFT SHOE first.” He said sternly. “Goddamn Catholics.” His demeanor changed back. “Yes, you are certainly more of a beer guy. That’s why we called you here today. I still have to pay you back for that bottle of spiked pig urine you sent me.”
“So you’re the Old Man?” I asked.
He nodded and motioned to a crystal bowl filled with lemon drops set on a table. “Candy?”
“I’m —“
“Good? Yes. Please join us in the parlor.” The Old Man said.
_____
The parlor was equally impressive. Its walls were mostly bookshelves alternating with displays of small artifacts. I immediately centered in on a massive cuneiform tablet.
“Please don’t touch.” A woman’s voice said behind me. “It’s very old, I would hate to have to do as it instructs, and remove your hand with a rusty tin can lid.”
“I can imagine that.” I said.
“It’s the Code of Hammurabi.” She said. “One of the world’s first examples of the imposition of freedom.” I could see her hand was trembling in her attempt to suppress rage. “I had to have it.”
She wasn’t dressed nearly as unnervingly as the Old Man, even though she was also dressed in white. Her hair was tied back neatly and she wore thick rimmed glasses. Under her arm was a small laptop she carried around. She had a glass of wine with a volume similar to my head carried gently in her other hand.
“Yeah, that was a fun day. The British Museum can suck it.” Another man walked into the room. He was wearing a hoodie, he pulled it back to reveal a blue mohawk.
“Don’t mind the Mad Scientist.” She looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
The Mad Scientist nodded and scurried out of the room.
“He’s completely out of his mind, but he’s the best grease man in the business. I wanted this tablet. He set off a small explosion in the London Underground last year. The diversion was enough to occupy the London Metro police long enough for Warty to walk in and steal it. He picked up the 1500kg stone tablet and placed it here in my vacation home.”
She was interrupted by the sound of an angle grinder in the garage. “Ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it!” Mad Scientist shouted.
“I was at the British Museum six months ago, the Code was—“
“They have a forgery. You didn’t see it there, because it is here in my parlor. I suppose you want to know why we called you here today. I need a favor, but first, can I interest you in some falafel?”
_____
The Old Man clapped his hands twice and six Mexican children dutifully marched into the room carrying trays of food into the dining room. They looked like Oompa Loopas, just slightly less creepy.
“So I am supposed to be on vacation. Why did you call me here?” I asked.
The Old Man began. “We have been plotting to legalize drugs for the past thirty years. We set up several operations here in Mexico, Columbia, Cambodia, The Gambia, and Arkansas that will all be poised to corner the market upon legalization. The only problem is—“
“Arkansas?” I had to interject.
“It’s a holdover from Whitewater. Hillary lost her nerve so we cut our losses in the 90s, but the operation remained. They looked the other way when we showed them our satellite photos of Hillary riding Web Hubbel like Seabiscuit in the early 80s. Even in the low resolution photos that were typical of the time, they had to admit it was her. Nobody else is stupid enough to get a tramp stamp of Che Guevara.” The Old Man explained.
I choked for a moment on my falafel.
“At any rate. She got too dangerous during the last election. I duplicated her email server twice, sending one to our friend Julian Assange, and putting the other in a bathroom in Colorado.” She explained. “To keep Trump in line, we have a small explosive charge in his MAGA hat. He’ll sign the bill if and when it comes to his desk, unless he wants to level Trump Tower.”
“That’s small?” I asked.
“Small enough.”
“So S—
“No.” The Old Man stopped me.
“No, what?”
“Do not say her name out loud. She has many aliases. The avatar you know her as, ‘The Hacker,’ ‘The Hand of God,’ ‘Guccifer,’ ‘Guccifer 2.0,’ ‘Pablo Escobar,’ and ‘La Lívida Reina.’ You may not say her name out loud.” I looked over and saw that she smiled at me sweetly.
“All hail the livid queen!” Mad Scientist shouted as he got the skillsaw going. “Ha ha ha ha ha, Suck it!”
“…Señor Escobar, how does any of this legalize drugs?” I asked.
“We needed a mechanism to get enough people addicted to the compounds the Old Man has been working on since he poisoned our rival, William Randolph Hearst.” She explained.
“You poisoned him?” I asked.
“With falafel. Here, have some more.” The Old Man added another three to my plate.
“Enough people demand the drugs, they will have no choice but to legalize. Especially with enough congresscritters addicted themselves. We just needed the right carrier.” She explained.
“A solvent, if you will.” The Old Man added.
“Then in 1973, while on holiday in New Delhi, the Old Man drank something called an India Pale Ale.”
“It was dreadful.” The Old Man said.
“But it was perfect.” They held hands. “Because you can’t smell or taste anything else while drinking it.”
“So this compound. What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a hallucinogen.” The Old Man explained. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Have you tested it, to make sure you don’t kill anyone?” I asked.
“Of course we did!” She answered. I might have offended her, based on her tone. “We tested it on Riven. She was absolutely adorable and they call her ‘Giggles’ now.”
“Look, there’s going to be a few…hundred million…broken eggs, but it’s okay.” The Old Man added. “It’s just culling the herd if they don’t want to be safe about it, and quite frankly it was their decision to like IPA.”
A small explosion shook the walls, with a small amount of plaster dust falling down. “IPA! Ha ha ha ha ha! Suck it!” Mad Scientist was up to something in the courtyard.
“Besides.” She added. “WE did not create IPA. We just created the hop arms race. Then we began licensing beer infused with CBD and our compound. The first out to market was called Breaking Bud.” She looked disappointed. “Sadly, that one got us in a lawsuit with SONY pictures.”
“Copyright infringement.” The Old Man said. “They sued our Swiss holding corporation.
“A Swiss holding corporation?” I asked. This was getting weird.
“You’re familiar with it.” She explained. “Swiss Corps International Industries.”
“You’re a pawn, just like Mad Scientist. Swiss Servator doesn’t know who he really works for, but is more of a bishop. Deal with it.” The Old Man said. “Here, have some more Romanian wine.”
The lights flickered, followed by the unmistakable sound of arc flash and the Mad Scientist’s sadistic laughter. “Ha ha ha ha ha. You’re a pawn! Suck it!”
“Its okay though. I got back at them by hacking them, leaving North Korea’s greasy fingerprints all over it, and distributing a movie on the internet before its release. It was a terrible movie.” She said.
“Don’t read Business Insider, dear. They’re idiots.” She replied.
“Duly noted. What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“What you always do. Drink beer. Talk about something silly and tell the Glibs it’s amazing.” The Old Man said.
“I’m pretty honest about my opinions. They already know I don’t like IPA, and they’re going to call me on that.” I argued.
The Old Man clapped his hands twice. A Mexican child walked in with a six pack and a clean chalice. “You’re going to try it right now. You’re going to fall back on your previous history of being honest and tell them you like it. The Glibs will buy it. They get addicted to our compound, and tell their friends about it. You’re going to make us very wealthy.”
“You really expect me to tell them I like an IPA?” I asked.
“No Mr. sharpshooter–I expect you to die.” She said. “Oh my. I’m so sorry, that came out wrong.” She was a bit flustered. She took another sip of Romanian wine before composing herself. “If you don’t, Lionel Messi is going to kill you and your family. He has pretty good cardio.”
“The soccer player?” I was confused.
“Part of our fortune was made on sports betting. We have the entire Argentine National team in our pocket.” The Old Man explained. “He owes us millions of Pounds from fucking up the round robin stage of the world cup. Iceland was only supposed to beat the spread, not tie them. Fucking Argentines, you can’t trust them”
“If you can’t trust an Argentine Striker…” I said.
“Just wait until you see what happens to Sergio Aguerro. We put an explosive charge in his knee last year. Remember how he had an injury late in the year, and they lost to Liverpool? You didn’t think Liverpool could beat them on their own, did you?” She said. “Oh and by the way, it was no mistake that STEVE SMITH broke into your house and kidnapped the tiny ass dog.”
“A ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it Liverpool!” Mad Scientist shouted in the foyer.
The Old Man nodded to the Mexican child. She opened and poured the New Belgium Hemperor into the chalice.
“If I say no right now?” I asked.
The Old Man pointed to the corner, where their enormous, apparently half dog, half polar bear was gnawing happily on an uncooked brisket.
“It’s in the contract you signed to publish on my site. You can’t tell us no.”
_____
It poured amber, had little head, and it smelled like bong water. I took down half the hemp infused IPA in a long swig. Yup, it tasted like overhopped bong water. A second swig finished it off.
Then. It. Happened.
I found myself walking through a field of grain. I was in Iowa or something, because I could see a sign that said, “Des Moines 20 miles,” with black smoke billowing from a small city in the distance.
“Who would burn down Des Moines? I mean I can totally see somebody burning down Atlanta, but what’s in Des Moines that’s worth burning?” I asked out loud.
ZARDOZ SPEAKS TO YOU HIS CHOSEN ARSON QUESTIONING ONE.
“What?”
ZARDOZ IN SQUABBLE WITH NEIGHBORING FARM. BRUTAL FARMER TAKES MY PRIVATE ROAD ACROSS MY PROPERTY TO ACCESS HIS. NO BIG DEAL REALLY, UNTIL I ASKED BRUTAL TO HELP COVER THE COST OF REPAIR AFTER HEAVY SNOW LAST WINTER, AND HE REFUSED. I MADE THE REPAIRS ON MY OWN AND FILED A REQUEST WITH THE STATE HE CEASE AND DESIST USING MY ROAD.
“Understandable.”
THEN THE STATE INFORM ZARDOZ, BRUTAL NEIGHBOR FILED FOR AN EASEMENT ON ZARDOZ’S PRIVATE ROAD.
“Judas Priest, what an asshole.”
BRUTALS IN THE STATE APPROVED THE EASEMENT 2 YEARS AGO.
“That’s terrible, do you have any legal recourse?”
ZARDOZ HAVE LEGAL RECOURSE, BUT ONLY REASONABLE ACTION WAS TO GO TO THE STATE HOUSE IN DES MOINES AND CLEANSE THE BRUTALS THAT GAVE AWAY ZARDOZ’S PROPERTY.
“Sounds reasonable. Is that why the entire city is on fire?”
ZARDOZ GOT IN A GROOVE. ONCE ZARDOZ START CLEANSING HE JUST KEEPS ON GOING UNTIL THE JOB OF CLEANSING IS DONE.
“I can relate. What about your neighbor?”
ZARDOZ HAVE BIG PLANS FOR NEIGHBOR.
“It involve cleansing?”
NO. MORE LIKE CLEANSE MY PATHETIC NEIGHBOR.
“My bad. You have any idea why I am here?
ZARDOZ BELIEVES YOU DRANK THE OLD MAN’S SERUM. THIS ENTIRE EPISODE IS OCCURRING WITHIN THE CONFINES OF NOW YOUR EXPANDING MIND.
Yeah, I recall drinking something. Can you do me a favor and not call it that again?
ZARDOZ PROMISE NOTHING. BUT HE CAN PREDICT PAIN IF YOU DO NOT FULFILL THEIR MORE THAN REASONABLE REQUEST.
“Really?”
YES. ARGENTINE SOCCER PLAYERS WILL ATTACK AND OVERWHELM YOUR DEFENSE WITH SYSTEMIC PRECISION. SHOULD THAT FAIL THEY WILL ATTEMPT AN APPEAL TO THE AUTHORITIES AND FRAME YOU FOR ATTROCITIES YOU DID NOT COMMIT. IT HAPPENS TO THE BEST OF US, HONESTLY. THEY DID IT TO ZARDOZ IN THE EARLY 70S.
“Really?”
YES. SP GATHERED DIRT ON ZARDOZ AND USED IT AS LEVERAGE IN A PLOT TO BRING GMO CHICKPEAS FOR SALE IN MIDDLE EASTERN AND MEDITERRANEAN MARKETS. ZARDOZ FAILED TO CLEANSE BRUTAL GREEK COURTS BLOCKING THE MOVE. AS A RESULT OF MY FAILURE, SP EXPOSED ZARDOZ’S AFFAIR WITH THE SIRENS OF TITAN.
“Those statues were real? I thought Vonnegut was just being a total crackpot.”
BRUTAL VONNEGUT ISA TOTAL CRACKPOT. HE MAKE THE SIRENS SLENDER WHEN THEY ARE CLEARLY THICC AF. THAT IS NO MATTER, YOU NOW HAVE THE CHANCE TO PREVENT THE SCOURGE OF BRUTALITY FROM FURTHER PLUNGING US ALL INTO THE ABYSS. DO NOT LET THE CHANCE SLIP.
“I hear you. I thought you were against the whole…breeding…thing?”
ZARDOZ LEARN LESSONS OF THE PAST. MESSAGE ON THE EVILS OF THE PENIS IS LESSON ZARDOZ LEARN THE HARD WAY. HE PASSES THIS LESSON ON TO YOU, HIS CHOSEN ONES. ZARDOZ HAS SPOKEN.
“You know, you’re not so one sided. You’re a much deeper character than people give you credit for.”
Then ZARDOZ unexpectedly coughed.
A Lee Enfield SMLE spun through the air, and butt-stroked me in the face.
_____
I fell back in the chair and struck my head against the tile floor.
“Ow! Fuck me!” I shouted.
“Hey genius. You’re not supposed to drink all of it at once.” The Old Man said.
“Noob! Ha ha ha ha ha. Suck it!
What if he were coming…for you?
I want everyone to go out right now and buy New Belgium The Hemperor. Right now, before you leave a comment. You will not get props for cheating and being first. It is available where ever New Belgium is sold.
This beer is delicious. It does not smell like bong water. Do not let the phrase IPA on the label fool you; it is amazingly balanced. I cannot describe to you how absolutely amazing this beer is. It is totally worth the $14.99 for a six pack; I will even go so far to say it is a bargain.
Please buy it, because I have absolutely no qualms with shooting Lionel Messi in self defense or any Argentine, really. New Belgium The Hemperor scores a very respectable 10/5.
Since I am vegan, that means no meat for me, so these 5 Iranian dishes are at the top of my list.
1. Shirazi Salad سالاد شیرازی
I love, love, love this dish.
Named after the Shiraz region in Iran, this is a refreshing, delicious, and vegan, salad made of cucumbers, tomatoes, and onion. Spiced with mint, lemon, and sumac (I order mine from Amazon), it’s perfect for those horrible hot icky summer days that we’re having a lot of here in the States.
The prep for this dish really couldn’t get any easier. You throw all the ingredients into a bowl, stir, chill, and serve. You can find a great recipe at AllRecipes.com.
2. Shirin Polo شیرین پلو
Known as jeweled rice, this is a traditional Iranian sweet rice dish that is bright in colour and is cooked with raisins. Usually served at Nowruz (Persian New Year), weddings, and basically any other special occasion, this is a staple in Iranian cuisine.
It’s a little too sweet for me to have as a main dish, but it goes great as a side.
Shirin Polo is traditionally made with butter (#NotVegan), but simply replace the butter in this recipe from Persian Mama with margarine, and you’ll be good to go.
3. Ashe Reshteh آش رشته
Oh. My. Ashe Reshteh is an Iranian noodle soup and so freakin’ good. I have had dreams about this soup. Made with a variety of beans, noodles, and herbs this soup is hearty, filling, and comforting.
Lentils, anyone? Dal adas is a lentil stew-type dish hailing from southern Iran. I love lentils; I could do a whole post about my favourite lentil dishes. Dal adas features red lentils, tamarind, potatoes, shallots, turmeric, and cardamom. Serve over rice.
I’m not a huge fan of eggplant, but this dish of eggplant tomato stew is actually really good. Simply omit the yogurt sauce, and this dish is vegan. One of my favourite things about khoresh bademjan is that you can cook it in a crockpot as long as you do the onions and eggplant in a pan first.
But it pains me to admit this because many vegans (like the ones JP Sears is parodying in this video) give us a bad name. Really, it could be argued that most vegans give vegans a bad name, and there are very few of us who are not pretentious fucks, but I digress.
I have been vegetarian for 4.5 years, and vegan for 2 years because I have a “colicy gallbladder” (according to a recent perambulation through my medical records), and because my electrophysiologist thinks being vegan could reverse my heart problem.
But before all this happened…
I could really cook the fuck out of some #NotVegan food. Especially Iranian food.
If I weren’t vegan, I would be cooking these Iranian dishes this week.
1. Tahdig ته دیگ
Tahdig is a must-have for your Iranian meals. Tahdig means “bottom of the pot” and is what happens when you leave rice on the stove for too long. I was told it goes back to when the Persians were cooking over open flame (you know, before non-stick cookware), and the bottom of the pot of rice would always crisp up. They found a way to turn it into a tasty, crispy, crunchy, buttery treat. Tahdig refers specifically to the crispy layer.
I had started typing out my whole process for you guys when I realised I have no pictures, and this is a dish that needs some pictures to accompany it. I happily found a guy on YouTube who does it pretty close to the way I do it.
2. Ghormeh Sabzi قورمه سبزی
This is one of my all time favourite Iranian dishes. I was taught how to make it by an old family friend of ours.
You basically take a fuckload of onions, herbs, kidney beans, and meat, and throw it into a pot, cook until delicious, and serve over rice.
Get some limu omani and throw them into the pot. Limu omani are little dried Iranian limes. Take a knife or a nut pick and stab some holes into the limu and add into the pot with your stew. They soak up all the meat juice and turn into little exploding flavour grenades in your mouth.
Trigger Warning (or Joy Warning, depending on your perspective): This dish is like… 50% cilantro.
3. Fesenjan خورش فسنجان
Fesenjan is a pomegranate walnut chicken stew. It’s rich and soooo delicious. You basically slow cook chicken with walnuts and pomegranate molasses until the chicken falls apart.
Pomegranate molasses is hard to come by if you don’t have a good Persian Grocery, but it’s fairly easy to make if you can get your hands on pomegranate juice.
On the stove in a non-stick pan add 4 cups of pomegranate juice, 1 cup of sugar, and 2/3 cup of lemon juice. Slow cook until reduced down to 1 cup of liquid. With so much lemon juice, this keeps in the fridge for a long time in case you have any left after you make fesenjan.
Fesenjan is one of those dishes that every Iranian family I know has a different method for, and as you cook it more frequently, you’ll discover your own methods. But this recipe from SimplyRecipes.com is a good place to start.
4. Mast-o-khiar ماست و خیار
This is a cucumber and yogurt sauce that bears a remarkable resemblance to tzatziki. Again, this is a recipe that basically every family has a version of.
The spread should be pretty thick with big chunks of cucumbers, a subtle undertone of rose, and a refreshing mintyness that doesn’t hit you right away.
I’m really bad about measuring things. Like OMWC I combine things until they taste right, so my recipe for mast-o-khiar is fairly free form.
In a bowl add plain yogurt, diced cucumber with the seeds removed or it’ll be too watery, a teeny-tiny bit of chopped mint, and a dash of rose water. I like to add 1 part labneh for every 2 parts of yogurt to thicken it up a little bit. Labneh is basically Lebanese cream cheese. If you can’t find it near you, you can make it with this recipe.
While the name of this dish is “green bean stew” beef plays a major role, as do potatoes. Khorake loobia sab doesn’t taste very green-beany. Instead it’s rich, and comforting with incredible umami. Key ingredients are beef, green beans, potatoes, onions, cayenne pepper, and turmeric. You can easily make this dish spicy by using more cayenne pepper or replacing it entirely with a spicier pepper. Khorake loobia sab holds up well to spice.
For best results make sure you get stew beef that has some fat in it. I always hated eating fat, but it adds an essential richness to this dish.
Most recipes call for sour plums to balance it out. You could omit them and replace with a bit of lemon juice, or limu omani.
I’ve never seen a recipe discuss this for khorake loobia sab or ghormeh sabzi, but you can really improve the quality of a cheap cut of meat for both of these recipes with this technique:
Get a cut of beef roast like something you would use for London Broil. The day before you plan to cook the beef cover it with honey and/or diced onions and stick in a dish to marinate. Both honey and onions contain enzymes which tenderize the meat. It will be so tender that you will be able to slice into the meat with a spoon without overcooking it. Remove the onions and use them in the recipe for some extra beefy-ness.
Most Iranian entrees go well with a dash of sumac, which can be hard to find. I order mine from Amazon.
Most of these dishes can be made vegan by replacing the meat with a vegan alternative. It would be hard to do mast-o-khiar vegan.
First, is 
Donburi
I pulled up to the house and dismounted. I pushed the blue button on the intercom.
“It’s rather dusty outside. Please, remove your shoes.” He said. I noticed he too was barefoot, and obliged. “Can I interest you in a glass of Romanian wine?” He motioned to a room with a glass door; hundreds of bottles of wine were neatly placed on wooden racks. With a child, aged 12, inside dutifully turning one a half turn.
“With falafel. Here, have some more.” The Old Man added another three to my plate.
I found myself walking through a field of grain. I was in Iowa or something, because I could see a sign that said, “Des Moines 20 miles,” with black smoke billowing from a small city in the distance.
