The Jam

This is relevant to all my interests. Except fountain pens. Fuck fountain pens.*

Plum Jam from www.carlpendle.com on Vimeo.

In case you were not aware, two things are happening this weekend: 1) my birthday and 2) New York gets twenty degrees warmer. I am pretty excited about both of these things, and the video above sort of encapsulates all of those feelings. Hope everyone has a great weekend shoving their faces full of things.

* Just kidding, Marcy!

Here We Are Again

I definitely thought that with this winter being milder, I would complain less. So far, that's been (just go with me on this) mostly true. However, at the end of February, as always, I am itching for spring again. To put it mildly: this really didn't help.

Made by Hand / No 3 The Beekeeper from Made by Hand on Vimeo.

Listen, guys, I am a curmudgeon. I love to be all "UGH, here's my sustainably-grown, artisanally-roasted Brooklyn joke," as much as the next guy. Because I live there. And while I love it, I do find a lot of it to be kind of insufferable sometimes. But, if you can watch this and not feel the tiniest bit proud of this woman, her commitment to something that definitely seemed crazy not too long ago, and her desire to share it with people, I don't know man. Maybe you're even more of a grump than I am. 

That said, watch all of Made by Hand's videos. They are crazy delightful.

Easy, Lovely, Strange

When you love someone, sometimes you do things for them that you don't totally understand.

My Sidekick turned thirty this January and one morning a few days before, I woke up and baked. This is not really normal behavior for me. But, the dude loves corn muffins the way most people love their pets, so I decided to take one for the team.

For the One-Hundredth Time

Today marks 100 posts on Chronicles of a Stomach Grumble. If you are saying to yourself, "wow, you've had this for a long time and should really have more than 100 posts," you are right. But here we are.

A sign of nerdy things to come.

To commemorate, I wanted to share a tweet of my dad's I stumbled across from 2006 (yes, my dad was on twitter before I knew how it worked). My dad never got to read this blog, but he definitely knew where I was headed all along. And, just in case anyone is wondering, I have the ingredients to make the above-mentioned soup in my fridge as we speak.

The Nerdist: Round One

A quick round-up of the things I nerded out over this week.

Brussels Sprouts and Grapes via Poor Man's Feast

EAT

If you can watch this and not:

a) get really hungry
b) kind of feel like we live during the most amazing time on the most amazing planet in the most amazing universe
c) really want to hug him when he gets surprised by the champagne

... then we probably don't hang out very often. If you feel a, b, c or some combination thereof and we also don't hang out very often, let's fix that and probably get something to eat.


EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Now go eat lunch! Quickly, before you die of jealousy.

Something I Really Like About Winter

I have really great news for everyone. Ruth's making another list.

via Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks

Pork Plucks and Kindred Nerd Spirits

Big thanks to my wonderful friend JSuh for alerting me to what's happening on Four Pounds Flour this week.

I can frame this, right?

What's happening is some pretty significant digging into the New York Historical Society's culinary collection and the resulting nerdery. JSuh pointed me to the final post of the series, Unusual Meats, and now I am obviously hooked and will read everything Sarah has ever written on Four Pounds Flour, because clearly we are the same kind of nerd.Go check it out!

On Pickles and Panic

I opened the fridge. All our homemade pickles had been consumed. I panicked. And then I pickled every single comestible in sight. 

Jerry Orbach's Trifle

Just wanted to share the most amazing, nerdy food thing I've read about today. The Dead Celebrity Cookbook is for sale on Amazon as we speak, and I think I'd really like you guys to buy it. Also, please be on the lookout for my new punk-soul band, Jerry Orbach's Trifle. I am not kidding about this. This is really going to be the name of my (imaginary) band. I created our first album cover for our (imaginary) forthcoming, self-titled EP.

Have I mentioned that a seasonal change makes me a little weird? You're welcome.

Hog Wild

Let's talk briefly about Kirby psychosis. This is something that takes over my brain each summer around the time these little pickling cucumbers hit the market. Let it suffice to say; shit gets real.

A good friend of mine recently tweeted, “I don’t use the term “hog wild” lightly. Let’s just say there were Kirbys at the farmers market and leave it at that.”

The Rhythm of Lunch

I often find myself having the conversation about how hard it is to make adult friends. No one is ever totally sure why it feels creepy to ask someone out on a friend-date for the first time, but everyone is sure that it does. I have a few theories, the most sentient one so far being that as a kid and a teenager, you are unburdened by self-consciousness and only have to know that you like the same things as that person likes. There's no question of how your overture will be received or if the resulting friend-date will be awkward as hell. When you are kids, if someone doesn't want to be friends with you, they will probably either not talk to you in the first place or just throw rocks at you when you walk down the street. Our carefully cultivated ability to smile-and-nod, something we work on to set others at ease even when we are not, ultimately serves only to foster doubt about whether or not a potential new friend is genuinely interested in getting to know us.

via Flickr

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm the only one who thinks things like this. I suspect, however, that I am not alone. Luckily, we've found the salve: meals. And when the adult friends in question also happen to be co-workers, the salve, more specifically, is lunch.

And Then Sometimes Corn Makes You Laugh

via Eatocracy

 I can't say with any kind of certainty that any first line of an article about growing your own corn has ever, or will ever again, make me laugh this hard.

"This morning, I stood on my roof deck and made my African Guinea Flint corn have sex with itself."

 I am clearly the target audience for this kind of joke, and for the thoughtful, nicely written article that follows. Corn really gets a bad rap in my brain, based on its sheer saturation of our daily diet. To hear someone talk lovingly about raising heritage kernels from the ground up is a nice change of pace. And to see a corn-banging joke on Eatocracy sort of makes my heart swell up with pride. Way to go, ladies. Click over here to read it!

When the Grid Goes Down, at Least I'll Have This

UGH, Blogger.

As some of you may have noticed, the post about the epic dinner party of pork in pastry has been taken down. This is because someone at Blogger rubbed sandpaper on their brains and did some "maintenance". I'll rewrite it soon! Until then, here's something I promised to show off: the new thistle that is going to share the rest of my life with me.

Step Five: Don't Forget That You're Cooking

Sometimes I have ideas to make funny videos. Then sometimes, other drunk people have already had that idea and are pretty funny. Don't fuckin hurt yourself.

Classics for a Reason

Sometimes old recipes kick around catering menus for so long, it makes me think, "What is the point of even making that anymore?" Aren't there any new ideas? Can't we come up with something better?

Then I make the recipe and realize, no, maybe we can't.

A Pretty Good Reason to Marry Someone

In our circle, it's a pretty well known fact that my Sidekick makes a mean cocktail. However, he has a dirty little secret: he also makes a pretty great little movie.

This cocktail, the Negroni for Wimps, is made with Campari's slightly less jaded sister, Aperol. It is lightly sweet, extremely refreshing and has me even more anxious for spring to arrive. I mean, just looking at those ice cubes makes me want to be in flip flops.

So, without further ado, please enjoy the reason I must constantly make snacks. To keep us from getting too drunk.

This is How We Learn

Oy. You guys.

A brief survey: Have you ever been so excited to cook something, so meticulous about its pairing and preparation and so trepidatious about screwing it up that when you do, somehow, screw it up you have to sit down on the floor of the kitchen and practice yoga breathing in order to not explode into a fit of toddler-like proportions?

Is this just me? Because that is exactly what happened with the beautiful Mangalitsa pork chops I was going on and on about just the other day. They look so harmless here, nestled in their bed of Brussels sprouts, poised to ruin my evening.

Crossing the Threshold

Recently, I've made a pretty solid commitment to the kind of food I love to eat, prepare and talk about. That food is home-style, simple, unpretentious, about feeding the people I love deep down into the depths of their bellies and making them happy from the inside out.

And now, for something completely different:

Politics and Artichokes

Indulge me. I'm having a moment of philosophical weakness. It doesn't happen very often and I promise to reward you, somehow, later, for putting up with it. I need to talk to you guys about politics. Not American politics, not office politics, not even really food politics exactly (I promise not to talk about Michael Pollan right now), but more the politics of how we think about, talk about and own food. I've had a few conversations in the recent past that have really set me to thinking.

The first was with my uncle Mitch last week. Mitch is one of my favorite people to eat with. He's a trained chef - out of professional kitchens now - but always putting his skills to good use for friends, family and the occasional competition. He's also a fucking grump, which is what makes me like him so much. While in the midst of an excellent blogging project on eGullet with a few friends, he invited me over to participate in their "mystery basket" challenge. While we chopped, snacked and sipped - as always - on a cocktail or two, we got into a conversation about cooks, chefs and the way we define them.