My buddy Paul bought a deep-fryer for the turkeys he made for Thanksgiving and Super Bowl, and about a month ago we came up with the idea to have a deep-fry party. The King of the Hill episode in which Bill and Boomhauer decided that they would only deep fry foods since the day they had purchased one inspired the party. Saturday was the day that all arteries within an 8 block radius were clogged, all the local high school kids broke out with severe acne just from walking by the party, and some truly disturbing (yet delicious) items were thrown into a vat of canola oil pre-heated to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
There were only two rules to the party; 1) you could only eat deep-fried food and 2) if you brought it to deep-fry it, you had to at least try it. Following is a list of everything I ate at the deep fry party, complete with commentary and rankings (all rankings based out of number of arteries clogged out of 10):
Battered Jalapeno Poppers (9) – The first entry into the bubbling oil was a masterpiece. Fresh jalapeno peppers opened and stuffed with cream cheese, Monterey Jack cheese, Cajun seasoning, and the key ingredient, bacon. These things were a great kickoff to the party. It only gets a 9 out of 10 because we hadn’t yet figured out that we needed to dip the deep fried items in milk/eggs, flour, then the batter. As a result, most of the batter fell off of the first couple of items.
Battered Sliced Dill Pickles (3) – Not very good due to the fact that the batter pretty much fell off of these right away. All that was left was a soggy, hot pickle. This was the one thing we brought that bombed.
Battered White Button Mushrooms (7) – Deep-fried mushrooms are one of my favorite appetizers, and this was one of the things that we brought. The batter stuck to this pretty well, but we had placed it in the second of the two deep-fryers at the party. The problem was the oil was nearly 500 degrees, so they got brown very fast.
Battered Zucchini (7) – Again, one of our contributions, this had a great texture, and held up very well. We cut it into thin slices which was perfect, but we had thrown it in as the same time as the mushrooms, so too brown, too quick.
Battered Catfish (9) – Catfish, in my opinion, is only truly great when fried. This was no exception. Flavorful, flaky, and fantastic.
Battered Shrimp (6) – Pretty good, but not as good as I’d hoped for. A little bland.
Sweet-Battered Ice Cream Bon-Bons (6) – This would have been a lot better had at not been for the execution. We used Mochi, which are Japanese ice cream bon-bons. Mochi have a thicker shell than a normal bon-bon, which worked out well for the deep-fry process. The problem was that these stuck to the bottom of the basket. When we removed the bon-bons, the bottoms would rip out, leaving a runny ice cream/batter mess. Tasted fantastic, messy as all hell.
Battered Crawfish Tails (4) – I expected these to be better as well, but much like the shrimp, they were quite bland. Combined with the chewy texture, I was rather bummed out that this didn’t work out.
Perogi (9) – These were not battered, but are an Eastern European dumpling filled with mashed potatoes. Outstanding!
Battered Avocado (8) – This was peeled and halved, and was really yummy. Ed took the other half of the avocado and wrapped it in bacon. I did not try that one, however.
Bacon (7) – Receives a higher score, because hey, it’s bacon. Didn’t really taste any better or worse than normal bacon though.
Battered Sage Leaves (5) – Interesting theory, but not the greatest. Basically tasted like Thanksgiving stuffing.
Battered Black Olives (5) – Tasted like warm olives, and some extra oil got stuck in the hole. Nothing too great.
Pizza (5) – Good concept from Ed, but just didn’t translate well. We should have tried a Hot Pocket or something instead.
Battered Big Mac (10) – Again from Ed, this was out of sight! People were pretending they were not interested or grossed out, but those people deep down in their hearts know that this kicked major booty. I’m sure we were not the first people to batter and deep-fry a Big Mac, but I want to be sure it is not my last. The bun stayed good and warm, but not soggy. The cheese got melted and the special sauce seemed to achieve maximum tang. Think if I bribe my local joint they’ll do one for me?
So I tried about 15 different deep-fried foods, and as of 27 hours later, no signs of a heart stoppage. Yet.
Take care,
jeremy
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
You Just Spray the Area
On Friday night, I ended up at a party that seems like it could have been lifted from a late 90’s movie (think Go, or something of that ilk).
The night started innocently enough, I picked up some Newcastle and went over to Toby’s. Toby, his roommate Scott, another friend AJ, and I had a couple of drinks and listened to some tunes.
I left there around 9 to go over to Yancy’s pub to meet up with my friends JR, Doug and Cat. Toby and AJ swung over after a while and the six of us hung out and had a few drinks. JR, Doug and Cat left to go to dinner, so the rest of us decided to go to a party that Toby had gotten invited to.
The party was being held at a Tattoo parlor named One Shot Tattoo just down the road. We ran into Toby’s friend Ryan who was leaving the party to go get more beer, so we went with him to pick up some as well. Ryan’s girlfriend is an artist at the parlor, and he was already pretty messed up, so I knew it was going to be an interesting experience.
We roll into the party to find it in full swing. Most everyone, guys and girls, were wearing fake mustaches. Even the Pit-Bull, Precious, was wearing one on her rump. I later found out that Precious was an adopted dog who ended up at the shelter after being shot by the cops during a raid. Nice dog, though.
There were two categories of party attendees. The first subset were the heavily inked, punk rock/rockabilly types. The second group consisted of hard-core gangsters. In striking up a conversation with a guy named Joe, within 30 seconds he let me know that I could get whatever I would need from him, including numerous “Pharmaceuticals” or any weaponry that I’d need. I professed to not really needing a “piece”, but he was quite a salesman. Even though I did not purchase anything, he made sure to write down his name and phone number in case I changed my mind. So now I have a gun guy.
Later, Doug, JR and Rich showed up at the party after dinner. As they walked in I was on my knees playing C-Lo on the floor for 5 bucks a roll. I ended up breaking even.
The occasion for the party was a going-away type of thing for an artist named Sky. It was very difficult to maintain any sense of a normal conversation about his impending move to Boston while there were two girls making out not more than five feet from us. Very distracting.
We finally said goodbye to our new friends around 1:30, and I made it home and into bed by 2:30. I don’t think I’m gonna call Joe, but if anybody needs something, I’ve now got a guy.
Take Care.
The night started innocently enough, I picked up some Newcastle and went over to Toby’s. Toby, his roommate Scott, another friend AJ, and I had a couple of drinks and listened to some tunes.
I left there around 9 to go over to Yancy’s pub to meet up with my friends JR, Doug and Cat. Toby and AJ swung over after a while and the six of us hung out and had a few drinks. JR, Doug and Cat left to go to dinner, so the rest of us decided to go to a party that Toby had gotten invited to.
The party was being held at a Tattoo parlor named One Shot Tattoo just down the road. We ran into Toby’s friend Ryan who was leaving the party to go get more beer, so we went with him to pick up some as well. Ryan’s girlfriend is an artist at the parlor, and he was already pretty messed up, so I knew it was going to be an interesting experience.
We roll into the party to find it in full swing. Most everyone, guys and girls, were wearing fake mustaches. Even the Pit-Bull, Precious, was wearing one on her rump. I later found out that Precious was an adopted dog who ended up at the shelter after being shot by the cops during a raid. Nice dog, though.
There were two categories of party attendees. The first subset were the heavily inked, punk rock/rockabilly types. The second group consisted of hard-core gangsters. In striking up a conversation with a guy named Joe, within 30 seconds he let me know that I could get whatever I would need from him, including numerous “Pharmaceuticals” or any weaponry that I’d need. I professed to not really needing a “piece”, but he was quite a salesman. Even though I did not purchase anything, he made sure to write down his name and phone number in case I changed my mind. So now I have a gun guy.
Later, Doug, JR and Rich showed up at the party after dinner. As they walked in I was on my knees playing C-Lo on the floor for 5 bucks a roll. I ended up breaking even.
The occasion for the party was a going-away type of thing for an artist named Sky. It was very difficult to maintain any sense of a normal conversation about his impending move to Boston while there were two girls making out not more than five feet from us. Very distracting.
We finally said goodbye to our new friends around 1:30, and I made it home and into bed by 2:30. I don’t think I’m gonna call Joe, but if anybody needs something, I’ve now got a guy.
Take Care.
Friday, February 9, 2007
I Have a Weird Job
Yesterday, I had to eat about a dozen different kinds of organic baby food. I have a weird job.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Thank You, Tony Dungy
The Super Bowl is my fifth favorite holiday (in order: St. Patrick’s Day, Thanksgiving, Bock Fest, Arbor Day, Super Bowl). My first Super Bowl Sunday in California was an upgrade over the only other time I’ve watched the game outside of MN (for that one I was in a hotel room in Cedar Rapids, IA eating crummy take-out Chinese food by myself).
Diana and myself walked over to the Big Blue House on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Our friend Paul knows the people at the Big Blue House through one of his high school friends, and they are known for throwing a pretty killer party, this one was no different.
Upon arriving, we checked out the Hawaiian pork that our friend Tracie had slaved over for about 15 hours. She had grown up in Hawaii and got the recipe from her mother (A boneless pork butt [not actually from the rump of the hog] slathered in Hawaiian salt and wrapped in tea leaves and banana leaves). She went so far as to buy an electric smoker off of Craigslist to make the 12 pound piece of meat she had purchased. Tracie spent the night at the Big Blue House so she could start the smoker at Midnight, and got up every three hours or so to add more soaked wood chips. That’s some real dedication, right there.
I set to work on making a numbers board for the party, and spent most of the pre-game badgering people to get their names on the board and collecting money for the pot. I even missed the opening kickoff return for touchdown as I was just finishing up getting it taken care of.
I quickly grabbed a plateful of food (pulled Hawaiian pork with sauce, some deep-fried turkey, chicken wings, stuffed mushrooms, chips and guacamole) and headed to one of the three rooms that had televisions set up. The room I was in wasn’t connected to the satellite that the TV in the adjoining room was. As a result, the rabbit-ears on our TV would have the game action about five seconds before the TV in the next room did. It was a great source of amusement the whole game to hear the roars in our room go up during a big play, and then wait for the room next to us follow with a similar reaction.
When I mean roar, I literally mean it. The best estimation was that there was 100 people at the party at any one time, and a total of about 125 showed up, and everybody brought food, beer, or both to share. We made some new friends and had a grand old time.
I need to thank Tony Dungy for not going for the field goal late in the game, as a result my number hit (9 Colts, 7 Bears) on the final and I was up $80. The people at the party quickly accused me of fixing the board, and I reminded them that I would have gone with 7-0 or 7-3 rather than 7-9 if I was truly trying to cheat.
The winnings were spent last night on flesh and cigars. Thanks again, Mr. Dungy.
Diana and myself walked over to the Big Blue House on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Our friend Paul knows the people at the Big Blue House through one of his high school friends, and they are known for throwing a pretty killer party, this one was no different.
Upon arriving, we checked out the Hawaiian pork that our friend Tracie had slaved over for about 15 hours. She had grown up in Hawaii and got the recipe from her mother (A boneless pork butt [not actually from the rump of the hog] slathered in Hawaiian salt and wrapped in tea leaves and banana leaves). She went so far as to buy an electric smoker off of Craigslist to make the 12 pound piece of meat she had purchased. Tracie spent the night at the Big Blue House so she could start the smoker at Midnight, and got up every three hours or so to add more soaked wood chips. That’s some real dedication, right there.
I set to work on making a numbers board for the party, and spent most of the pre-game badgering people to get their names on the board and collecting money for the pot. I even missed the opening kickoff return for touchdown as I was just finishing up getting it taken care of.
I quickly grabbed a plateful of food (pulled Hawaiian pork with sauce, some deep-fried turkey, chicken wings, stuffed mushrooms, chips and guacamole) and headed to one of the three rooms that had televisions set up. The room I was in wasn’t connected to the satellite that the TV in the adjoining room was. As a result, the rabbit-ears on our TV would have the game action about five seconds before the TV in the next room did. It was a great source of amusement the whole game to hear the roars in our room go up during a big play, and then wait for the room next to us follow with a similar reaction.
When I mean roar, I literally mean it. The best estimation was that there was 100 people at the party at any one time, and a total of about 125 showed up, and everybody brought food, beer, or both to share. We made some new friends and had a grand old time.
I need to thank Tony Dungy for not going for the field goal late in the game, as a result my number hit (9 Colts, 7 Bears) on the final and I was up $80. The people at the party quickly accused me of fixing the board, and I reminded them that I would have gone with 7-0 or 7-3 rather than 7-9 if I was truly trying to cheat.
The winnings were spent last night on flesh and cigars. Thanks again, Mr. Dungy.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
WWVVD? (What Would Vincent Vega Do?)
Good grief am I tired. That’s usually a sign of a good night, and last night was no exception.
One of the first people I met out here was Toby. He wandered by while I was at one of my local pubs (The Mucky Duck) watching the Vikings on the HD Flatscreen. He asked if I was from MN, I responded in the affirmative, then he asked, “Do you know this shi**y band called Dillinger Four?” Now, those that know me would know that I could consider them Fightin’ Words. He was obviously joking, however, and we got to talking. It turns out he runs his own record label (Red Scare Records) and I owned a couple of albums off of his label (The Falcon, which has members of The Lawrence Arms and Alkaline Trio). He had started the label less than a couple of years ago and had earlier in the year had quit his job at Fat Wreck Chords. Fat Wreck (run by Fat Mike of NOFX) supplied numerous albums that were, and still are, a cornerstone of the music that I enjoy to this day. Toby and I instantly hit it off, to say the least.
Last night Toby was able to get me in to the second of three NOFX shows playing at Slim’s. The three night extravaganza is their homecoming from their mini-tour that they’ve been on, and I was very grateful that Toby was able to pull some strings and get me into a sold-out, small-size venue. Toby, however, fully exceeded anything that I expected when he produced not only tickets, but all-access wrist bands to go back stage and see the show from a less dense roped off area. Plus they had a couple of kegs of Pabst in the back alley that was gratis to anyone wearing the wrist band, I owe Toby a couple of drinks, don’t you think?
We arrived a bit late so we missed the first band, but the second band was Strike Anywhere, an anthemic, melodic hardcore band from Richmond, VA that is on Fat Wreck’s roster. They were really good, so good, in fact that I picked up two of their albums after the show.
The whole time we are in the all-access area, Toby is introducing me to various friends of his from Fat Wreck, local musicians, etc. I received a tap on the shoulder after Strike Anywhere’s set and figured Toby wanted me to meet another one of his ex-coworkers. Turning around, I realized that it was not one of his ex-coworkers, but his ex-boss. Toby introduces me to Fat Mike and we make some non-committal small talk while Mike signs a couple of kid’s shirts. Then Mike tells me a story of what had happened to him earlier that morning.
Turns out that Mike had met a super-fan from MPLS the night before and had accepted this fan’s offer to go golfing at a super exclusive golf course in the city. The guy stressed that he needed Mike and his partner to be on their best behavior (dressing nicely, [no plaid pants], easy on the drink, no ditching the carts in sand traps, etc.). Mike shows up at the course and meets up with the fan at about 8 AM. The fan appeared to be a little shaky and twitchy, Mike wrote it off as an all-night bender and was excited to go hit the links. Then, on the second hole, the fan collapses. Turns out the guy OD’d on liquid Valium and went down right in the tee box. Ambulances and fire trucks show up, and they plunge the big needle of adrenaline right into the guy’s chest, right there on the course.
After the guy had been taken to the hospital, Mike and his playing partner did what any self-respected golfer would do when on a golf course Mecca. They played out the rest of their round.
After the story I wished Mike well on his show coming up as he went backstage to prepare, I totally forgot to tell him “Hi” from Diana, whoops. Toby and I headed out to the alley to get a Pabst and talk with some other locals in “the scene”, we even chatted up Matt Smith, the guitarist from Strike Anywhere, for a little bit. One of the best parts of having the wrist band, however, is the clean, no-line bathroom. Can’t beat that with a stick.
NOFX came on and played for a little over an hour, mixing in older and newer songs quite well and had the usual hilarious stage banter. The sound was great, the show was great, and they were done a little bit before 12:30 AM.
After the show Toby, Chris from The Nothingtons and I went over to a bar a little over a block away. The Eagle is a motorcycle, bear, leather-daddy bar that a lot of the bands that play at Slim’s go to. I can see why as the place was really cool. It had a huge outdoor area with trees and fire pits and just a really cool look about it. The bartender even gave us some killer Boston Crème Cake that was leftover from an earlier party. I had a Beck’s with the kids and then hailed a cab, getting home at 2 AM. I got up for work this morning at 5. Good grief am I tired.
Take care.
jeremy
One of the first people I met out here was Toby. He wandered by while I was at one of my local pubs (The Mucky Duck) watching the Vikings on the HD Flatscreen. He asked if I was from MN, I responded in the affirmative, then he asked, “Do you know this shi**y band called Dillinger Four?” Now, those that know me would know that I could consider them Fightin’ Words. He was obviously joking, however, and we got to talking. It turns out he runs his own record label (Red Scare Records) and I owned a couple of albums off of his label (The Falcon, which has members of The Lawrence Arms and Alkaline Trio). He had started the label less than a couple of years ago and had earlier in the year had quit his job at Fat Wreck Chords. Fat Wreck (run by Fat Mike of NOFX) supplied numerous albums that were, and still are, a cornerstone of the music that I enjoy to this day. Toby and I instantly hit it off, to say the least.
Last night Toby was able to get me in to the second of three NOFX shows playing at Slim’s. The three night extravaganza is their homecoming from their mini-tour that they’ve been on, and I was very grateful that Toby was able to pull some strings and get me into a sold-out, small-size venue. Toby, however, fully exceeded anything that I expected when he produced not only tickets, but all-access wrist bands to go back stage and see the show from a less dense roped off area. Plus they had a couple of kegs of Pabst in the back alley that was gratis to anyone wearing the wrist band, I owe Toby a couple of drinks, don’t you think?
We arrived a bit late so we missed the first band, but the second band was Strike Anywhere, an anthemic, melodic hardcore band from Richmond, VA that is on Fat Wreck’s roster. They were really good, so good, in fact that I picked up two of their albums after the show.
The whole time we are in the all-access area, Toby is introducing me to various friends of his from Fat Wreck, local musicians, etc. I received a tap on the shoulder after Strike Anywhere’s set and figured Toby wanted me to meet another one of his ex-coworkers. Turning around, I realized that it was not one of his ex-coworkers, but his ex-boss. Toby introduces me to Fat Mike and we make some non-committal small talk while Mike signs a couple of kid’s shirts. Then Mike tells me a story of what had happened to him earlier that morning.
Turns out that Mike had met a super-fan from MPLS the night before and had accepted this fan’s offer to go golfing at a super exclusive golf course in the city. The guy stressed that he needed Mike and his partner to be on their best behavior (dressing nicely, [no plaid pants], easy on the drink, no ditching the carts in sand traps, etc.). Mike shows up at the course and meets up with the fan at about 8 AM. The fan appeared to be a little shaky and twitchy, Mike wrote it off as an all-night bender and was excited to go hit the links. Then, on the second hole, the fan collapses. Turns out the guy OD’d on liquid Valium and went down right in the tee box. Ambulances and fire trucks show up, and they plunge the big needle of adrenaline right into the guy’s chest, right there on the course.
After the guy had been taken to the hospital, Mike and his playing partner did what any self-respected golfer would do when on a golf course Mecca. They played out the rest of their round.
After the story I wished Mike well on his show coming up as he went backstage to prepare, I totally forgot to tell him “Hi” from Diana, whoops. Toby and I headed out to the alley to get a Pabst and talk with some other locals in “the scene”, we even chatted up Matt Smith, the guitarist from Strike Anywhere, for a little bit. One of the best parts of having the wrist band, however, is the clean, no-line bathroom. Can’t beat that with a stick.
NOFX came on and played for a little over an hour, mixing in older and newer songs quite well and had the usual hilarious stage banter. The sound was great, the show was great, and they were done a little bit before 12:30 AM.
After the show Toby, Chris from The Nothingtons and I went over to a bar a little over a block away. The Eagle is a motorcycle, bear, leather-daddy bar that a lot of the bands that play at Slim’s go to. I can see why as the place was really cool. It had a huge outdoor area with trees and fire pits and just a really cool look about it. The bartender even gave us some killer Boston Crème Cake that was leftover from an earlier party. I had a Beck’s with the kids and then hailed a cab, getting home at 2 AM. I got up for work this morning at 5. Good grief am I tired.
Take care.
jeremy
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