Pretentious

I wrote in an earlier entry how I dislike pretentiousness; whether in food, in conversation, in consumerism, and even in writing.  People generally love to make themselves look better than perhaps they really are or at the very least, to portray themselves in as favorable a light as possible.  I guess I can't really blame folks for this, for who doesn't want to look good?  Of course, when pretension emerges in written form, the results run the gamut from the merely laughable to the downright foolish.

So what does any of this have to do with the focus of this blog?  Truthfully... not much.  But I was reading a review on Urbanspoon (I won't mention the author, you'll have to find it yourself... a Valpo restaurant review: hint, hint) and I came across the following nugget.  It is sooo cheesy--no pun intended--that I felt compelled to comment.  Anyway, here it is and you can judge for yourselves:

"The two cheeses (blue - not bleu - crumbled on top) did not mesh well and also had no subtlety, brawling in my mouth for dominance rather than working together like a melody."

This is bad on so many levels, I don't even know where to start.  What initially struck me was how utterly pretentious this little gem appeared and how one presumes the author smugly posted it believing himself to be a budding Hemingway or Fitzgerald.  I love the phrase "brawling in my mouth..."  Wow!  One can only imagine opposing wedges of cheese--perhaps a Mr. Gorgonzola and a Mr. Stilton--with sleeves rolled to expose bulging biceps, slugging it out on a damp, taste bud infested tableau surrounded by the ever present teeth silently cheering their favorites on to victory.

The writing issues aside, who here has had a "subtle" blue/bleu cheese anyway?  These cheeses are many things, but subtle just ain't one of them!  And by the way; in the United States, "blue" is the accepted form of spelling for this type of fromage anyway.

Okay, okay, calm down!  Find your center.  There... blood pressure returning to normal.

Sorry about that.  I momentarily lost control due to the near overwhelming combination of bad writing, misinformation, questionable taste, and pretentious thinking. 

Big Daddys Genuine BBQ

Visited: October 11, 2011

I confess:  I have been to Big Daddys more than a few times... okay, maybe alot since they opened.  Having been born in the south and lived there for a time, not to mention frequent trips to southern climes on a regular basis, I dine at many, many BBQ joints.  Some are mere holes in the wall that make you wonder if they have ever even heard of the concept of a health inspector and conversely, some grand BBQ palaces complete with white tablecloths and attentive servers.  I have personally seen the pros and big BBQ names in action (they too put their pants on one leg at a time).  From Texas to Tennessee to Florida, and many points in between, I have eaten my fair share of BBQ. 

There is one thing I have observed during my travels and as I have matured.  BBQ--like chili--inspires yet polarizes those who consume it.  It is improbable that we will ever agree on the definition of good BBQ or the perfect BBQ restaurant, or even the proper pit in which to smoke it.  It is unlikely we will ever convince the opposing camp of the error of their ways and bring them out of the darkness.  But that's okay!  It makes for a more interesting journey.  I like what the restaurant "Smoque" has put in their website under their "BBQ Manifesto":

"...BBQ is a perennial subject of debate and controversy. People argue ingredients and techniques, make claims about the superiority of regional styles, and even dispute the meaning of BBQ itself. Strong opinions about BBQ are firmly rooted in the passion of its devotees..."

Realizing all that, Big Daddys is epitomizing what southern BBQ is all about:  quality meats hickory smoked over low heat until tender served with creative side dishes, everything prepared from scratch.  The food here accurately reflects what you will find throughout the top notch southern BBQ spots and let me tell you, it is really good stuff!  The portions are huge and the taste is incredible.  I love how I can actually taste the meat, smoke, and spices without it being drowned in sauce.  After pretty much working my way through the entire menu, some items really stand out for me:  the St. Louis dry rubbed ribs, the cowboy beans, and the baked corn.  I was there on the recently introduced all you can eat rib night last Tuesday and found the ribs to be smokey, meaty, moist and tender.  WOW!  The owners are constantly handing out samples to encourage you to try new things and everyone is very friendly.  The smoked chicken is out of this world and I have taken leftovers home and made an awesome chicken salad with it!



Nice Rack
 (of St. Louis Ribs, mmm)



Like every other restaurant in the world, they could tweak a couple of things:  I would prefer a couple of more choices of sauces, I am not wild about plastic cutlery and the paper served under the food seems to disintegrate during the course of a meal.  Early on I think they had trouble with some consistency like any new place but I think the kinks have been worked out for the most part.  The owner talked about installing a fire pit outside at one time, which would be cool, but as of last Tuesday it was still AWOL.  And what good BBQ place doesn't serve a cobbler or a pecan pie or something?  Not that I would have any room to eat it, I guess.

Summary:  For those who really know and appreciate the true southern BBQ experience, Big Daddys has nailed it.  For the rest of you who just don't get it, there's always that pulled pork slider down at White Castle...

Service:         8 out of 10  They take care of you
Cleanliness:   7 out of 10  Everything seems clean.
Food Taste:    9 out of 10  The real deal, would be perfect with some greens...
Value:            9 out of 10  Almost too much food
Ambiance:      7 out of 10  But hey, this is a BBQ joint after all!

Big Daddy's Genuine Barbecue
3304 Calumet Ave
Valparaiso, IN  46383

219-242-8163

Joy of Kneading

I love bread.  Don't you? 

Put aside--if you can--even if just for a moment, the high carb discussion and think about a loaf of crusty bread pulled from the oven just begging to be sliced then slathered in butter and jam.  The first slice falls away to the cutting board, a bit of steam rises from the pillowy interior (I can never wait until it cools), the enticing aroma draws family members from their various electronic gadgetry... mmm.  We gather around the cutting board clamoring for a slice, ipods and cell phones momentarily forgotten, and we laugh and talk.

As the baker, I get the heel.  An ethereal combination of crustiness and steamy tenderness, this first slice I claim as my own with the excuse that it must be "tested" to ensure its suitability for consumption by the common folk.  I can't believe they still buy into that malarkey after all these years.  Funny how the heel remains untouched in a store bought loaf of white bread though.

When I was much younger my wife's grandmother was known for her delicate crescent rolls, always anticipated at any family gathering.  Served piping hot at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, this was a special treat to be savored and fondly remembered because they wouldn't make an appearance again for months--an eternity in the eyes of the youngsters seated at the table with their cheeks packed with that buttery goodness.  The recipe was never fully revealed and went with her to the grave.

Scouring cookbook after cookbook, I came across a recipe for crescent rolls which included two of the ingredients I knew were included in the original:  mashed potatoes and potato water.  I was sure I was on the right track, but further reading unveiled a new technique that surprised me.  This dough rose overnight in the refrigerator!  Who had ever heard of that?

Now I have become the family crescent roll maker.  The young ones fawn over and flatter me at family gatherings in an attempt to wheedle an early sample out of the hoard I come bearing.  I let them know the rolls are numbered and must be accounted for at dinner time.  Then I set the sack down on the counter and leave the kitchen full well knowing the rolls will be pilfered by young and old alike.  I have taken to baking about three times the amount needed to allow for pre and post dinner snacking.

But it is with a touch of regret I never fully learned the old recipe.  Or maybe it was her technique, I just don't know.  Her rolls always seemed more tender, more evenly browned, more uniform in shape.  They were the essence of baking:  simple ingredients and technique combined with care to form a heavenly treat.  They were perfect.

The Home Fires Are A-Burnin'

Just so you know, the Hoosier Epicure does not visit restaurants every day of the week.  There are days when cooking at home are far more gratifying and fulfilling than any other dining option.  For those who cook, you will certainly know what I mean--at least for those who enjoy cooking.

There's something magical about cooking:  the transforming power of yeast working on a few cups of flour and a bit of water, the tantalizing crusty browned edges of cheesy potato casserole, the sizzle of bacon when it hits a hot cast iron skillet, the anticipation of a warm cookie laden with chunks of chocolate and chopped walnuts cooling on the rack, the succulent and savory first slice of a roast beef always bringing back memories of a favorite meal from my childhood.

I do not cook at home as often as in the past.  Kids are gone for the most part, career is consuming what little time remains, and--if truth be told--the energy level just ain't what it used to be .  But when guests are on the docket, I still love to pull out all the stops.  Not that I intend to impress our visitors with highbrow, haute cuisine... not by any means.  I dislike pretentiousness:  food, like so many other aspects of life is better when it is authentic.  Genuine.  What I mean by that is that we want our guests to know they are important to us so we take the time and effort to prepare food that reflects who we are and do it with care and attention to detail.  

It doesn't matter whether it is a simple burger cooked over charcoal or a delicate baked flan oozing with caramel sauce.  If it is worth buying the ingredients and putting in the effort, it's worth doing it right.  And while I'm on this soapbox, I might as well add that this is what separates average restaurants from superior ones:  they take the time and effort to do it right.

And let me add, there are certain restaurants around town that do this very thing.  I guess it is pride of ownership on the part of the restaurateur--and to him or her it is more than making a living--perhaps much more in some cases.  It is an unveiling of their creativity, a laying it on the line for the public to experience and enjoy.

So here is one of my favorite fall spreads when we have guests:  a piping hot spinach/artichoke dip with pita bread or tortilla chips, citrus glazed shrimp grilled over charcoal, baby back ribs smoked until they are almost too tender to transfer from the rack to the platter, twice baked potatoes loaded with herbs and cheeses, carrots and parsnips tossed in olive oil and coarse sea salt then roasted until they begin to caramelize around the edges, fresh crescent rolls baked from scratch hot from the oven and slathered in butter or jam, and maybe a chocolate bread pudding cooked in a bain-maire then topped with fresh whipped cream.

Hungry?  So am I.