Fun With Cooking
What, you say? How can I possibly write a post entitled "Fun With Cooking"?
Well, in all fairness, you do have a point. My cooking skills are legendary, and not in the good way. The kitchen is not my domain. And I did once set Spaghetti-O's on fire. Not one of my finer moments, indeed. However, when serving as an assistant to someone more trained than I, then I can function in far greater capacity.
Sort of.
But in reality, this post is not about my skills in the kitchen. It's about the net result.
First off, reference: This article explains why pigs are awesome. I am hard-pressed to dispute his facts: MEAT IS NEAT. I can say this because I am a tremendomeatatarian.
More importantly, it looked so cute, I just wanted to gobble it up whole. I made the suggestion to HG, my partner in crime, and she said "Mmmmmmm, bacon." I took that as a "Hell Yes".
In addition to the porcine goodness we had planned, she decided to try a recipe for a German pasta called spätzle. It's yummy. Unfortunately, we failed to recognize a fatal flaw in this plan: making noodles is tricksy business. And German noodles are more hard-core than your average noodle.
She prepares the dough. The dough is thick and dense. It has a grip like iron. And our plan is to hand-press it through a collander to make strings of noodles. This is a daunting task.
If you're ever curious about how such an act might turn out, allow me to relay to you a simple sentence: IT WAS FULL OF FAIL.
With HG holding up the collander, I pushed down on raw pasta dough with all my might. But Hercules himself could not have contended with this stuff that stuck to everything with the tenacity of a coked-up wolverine. It stuck to hands. Bowls. Shirts. Hair. Other bowls. Things. I think I rescued a tree limb at some point, because god knows how that got stuck in there. Even applying the fundamental machines of the universe did nothing to further the cause of the spätzle.
After an hour of grunting and sweating and pushing, we had managed to create just enough to form what we felt would be four decent helpings, and called it quits. The spätzle had emerged victorious over our paltry human skills. (Apparently you're supposed to use a special pasta press to make the stuff. Go figure...)
With this grave task accomplished, the making of a BaconPig was easy in comparison.
In an improvement on the given design, we used a pair of cheddar wursts as the core of BaconPig. We'll call them... Spine and Organs, respectively. They were then wrapped in ground pork, with extra ground pork chunks used to shape the head and legs. And, of course, bacon. We used hickory smoked bacon for flavor. Mmmmm... smokey.
A hot chili pepper was cut up to serve as eyes and tail, and garlic cloves sufficed as ears. And then, great heat was applied, and BaconPig was made flesh, and it was good.
thereject, I know you are smacking your lips even at this very moment. Go forth, and satiate your hunger. Make yourself a BaconPig.
At this point the spätzle was fried in oil and cheese and brought to bear. In this, at least, we were successful.
In future versions, perhaps the ground pork could be marinated with some garlic and pepper. Or perhaps, strips of maple bacon interspersed with the smoked bacon to add a sweet flavor. My idea was to lay down a thin layer of ham in a second deep dish, and then spread a layer of cinnamon applesauce on top of it, and then place the pig atop that, to appear as if he were in his own personal mud wallow. And finally, the piece de resistance, a cherry tomato in its snout, like an apple in a whole pig.
Despite all of that, however, the treat was still tasty, and when followed up by a creme brulee (do-it-yourself dessert kit, includes blowtorch; how can you go wrong?), made for an excellent meal. And the meaty part was really quite easy to make. Go on! You know you want to try it. Unless you're a vegetarian, in which case... well, this post just wasn't for you.
Well, in all fairness, you do have a point. My cooking skills are legendary, and not in the good way. The kitchen is not my domain. And I did once set Spaghetti-O's on fire. Not one of my finer moments, indeed. However, when serving as an assistant to someone more trained than I, then I can function in far greater capacity.
Sort of.
But in reality, this post is not about my skills in the kitchen. It's about the net result.
First off, reference: This article explains why pigs are awesome. I am hard-pressed to dispute his facts: MEAT IS NEAT. I can say this because I am a tremendomeatatarian.
More importantly, it looked so cute, I just wanted to gobble it up whole. I made the suggestion to HG, my partner in crime, and she said "Mmmmmmm, bacon." I took that as a "Hell Yes".
In addition to the porcine goodness we had planned, she decided to try a recipe for a German pasta called spätzle. It's yummy. Unfortunately, we failed to recognize a fatal flaw in this plan: making noodles is tricksy business. And German noodles are more hard-core than your average noodle.
She prepares the dough. The dough is thick and dense. It has a grip like iron. And our plan is to hand-press it through a collander to make strings of noodles. This is a daunting task.
If you're ever curious about how such an act might turn out, allow me to relay to you a simple sentence: IT WAS FULL OF FAIL.
With HG holding up the collander, I pushed down on raw pasta dough with all my might. But Hercules himself could not have contended with this stuff that stuck to everything with the tenacity of a coked-up wolverine. It stuck to hands. Bowls. Shirts. Hair. Other bowls. Things. I think I rescued a tree limb at some point, because god knows how that got stuck in there. Even applying the fundamental machines of the universe did nothing to further the cause of the spätzle.
After an hour of grunting and sweating and pushing, we had managed to create just enough to form what we felt would be four decent helpings, and called it quits. The spätzle had emerged victorious over our paltry human skills. (Apparently you're supposed to use a special pasta press to make the stuff. Go figure...)
With this grave task accomplished, the making of a BaconPig was easy in comparison.
In an improvement on the given design, we used a pair of cheddar wursts as the core of BaconPig. We'll call them... Spine and Organs, respectively. They were then wrapped in ground pork, with extra ground pork chunks used to shape the head and legs. And, of course, bacon. We used hickory smoked bacon for flavor. Mmmmm... smokey.
A hot chili pepper was cut up to serve as eyes and tail, and garlic cloves sufficed as ears. And then, great heat was applied, and BaconPig was made flesh, and it was good.
thereject, I know you are smacking your lips even at this very moment. Go forth, and satiate your hunger. Make yourself a BaconPig.
At this point the spätzle was fried in oil and cheese and brought to bear. In this, at least, we were successful.
In future versions, perhaps the ground pork could be marinated with some garlic and pepper. Or perhaps, strips of maple bacon interspersed with the smoked bacon to add a sweet flavor. My idea was to lay down a thin layer of ham in a second deep dish, and then spread a layer of cinnamon applesauce on top of it, and then place the pig atop that, to appear as if he were in his own personal mud wallow. And finally, the piece de resistance, a cherry tomato in its snout, like an apple in a whole pig.
Despite all of that, however, the treat was still tasty, and when followed up by a creme brulee (do-it-yourself dessert kit, includes blowtorch; how can you go wrong?), made for an excellent meal. And the meaty part was really quite easy to make. Go on! You know you want to try it. Unless you're a vegetarian, in which case... well, this post just wasn't for you.