Most Liked Food Blogs (316)

The United States Department of Agriculture is the agency who inspects meat processing plants and sees to it they maintain health standards.
Every week, we get mailed advertisements/flyers from local markets and usually, that's the first thing to make it to the recycle bin.
We did try one market and I noticed the meat didn't have the USDA stamp. It was marked from a country in Central America. The price was much less that meats found in the larger market chains like Wal-Mart or Publix.
The shape of the chicken looked mutated and out of proportion to what I'm accustomed to buying. I suggested trying it out to see if it was acceptable. Different flavor. Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather not take a risk to save a few dollars a week on meat coming from an unknown source.

Last night we shopped at Aldi and it was different. USDA stamps on the meats they display. The chicken looked like chicken.

I'll know tonight about the flavor.

In case you forgot how to cook bacon, one brand offers instructions.

I came across some YouTube videos of noodles made by hand. Two different styles were featured in the same video. One is a Chinese man who pulls them by hand and the other a Japanese man who slices them with a knife.

For years, I grew up on Italian style spaghetti noodles that I knew were 'extruded' through machine with round holes. The fresh noodles were then hung to dry.
Noodles I buy from the Asian market also appear to be made by machine. They take flat sheets of dough and pass them through a conveyor with a series of knives that slice the dough into uniform strips.

As seen in the video, the Chinese guy not only makes an amazing display of his artistry, he has a flare about the showmanship. Watching the performance was very entertaining.

Very impressive... Peter Song:

I'm a few miles from Johnson & Wales University. It's been called 'the cooking college' because they specialize in careers in the food service industry. Masters of the culinary arts.

Years ago, my dentist raved about their Sunday brunch. I never tried it, but I've seen their TV commercials where a chef single-handedly cracks an egg on the edge of a bowl impressed me.

Okay... I can do that... NOT!!!

Maybe with practice I could, but I'm not inclined to eat scrambled eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner while I learn the technique.

I guess if you go to a cooking college you have to be an 'eggspert' to make it to the next level!

Most of my meals are cooked with thin slices of ginger. I'm okay with powdered ginger, but my wife insists on cooking with fresh ginger and that's much healthier.

Pan fried meats cooked with a minimum of olive oil make the ginger take on a terrific flavor... especially when cooked with salmon.

I cannot say if it's from an age-old traditional Chinese recipe, but I do look forward to fried ginger at dinner!

Note, that's fried ginger, not to be confused with Fred and Ginger...

Sometimes it's not so easy considering the same word has different meanings.

If a guy has a birth defect (as in a dark round often raised mark on his skin) it's called a mole. The same defect on a woman is called a beauty mark.
Gotta love those dual standards.
You cannot wipe those moles off your face and need to see a dermatologist for professional treatment.




Another mole is a rodent sized mammal with sharp paws that burrows underground. They leave a small opening with dirt around it when they come to the surface...
Don't consider touching any of those moles... you could get scratched in the process.



A third mole is the traditional Mexican sauce that often contains fruit, chili pepper, nuts, black pepper, onion, cinnamon, cumin and chocolate.



So get some mole sauce and pour it over your tacos, burritos or enchiladas.



When you're done, you can wipe this mole off your face!

This is MY top 12 list,
it's somewhat acceptable,
if YOUR list is different.

#12 Plum

#11 Apricot

#10 Strawberry

#9 Blackberry

#8 Papaya

#7 Kiwi

#6 Orange

#5 Raspberry

#4 Cherry

#3 Watermelon

#2 Peach

and

#1. Mango

So, we all have experienced that situation, where you're lying in bed thinking about this and that. World politics, pretty girls, our workplaces... And so it goes.
And so a man gets to thinking, I'm not exactly hungry right now but at the same time I wouldnt mind something to eat. Like not a huge meal, and not a chocolate bar either. Various thoughts run by, various things are considered like maybe a bowl of ice cream, some instant noodles, or maybe sardines on toast. Its like a complicated jigsaw puzzle and the pieces dont quite match up.
Like a bolt of lightning when you're out playing golf, it hits you. A blindingly obvious epiphany strikes like a coiled up cobra, as you remember there's a jar of Greek olives in the cupboard. Its a cold night and you dont want to get out of the warm bed to go to the kitchen, but like an unwanted erection the more you think of it the harder it gets.
After some time, you decide to have a few bongs to try and straighten up a bit, but that niggling thought about the olives has taken hold. You put your favourite Enya album on and crank the volume to the maximum, but its still not sufficient to stop your mind racing, thinking about those little black salty treats. You have a few more bongs and pace up and down the hallway, trying to think of reasons why not to hook in, but your inner self is justifying why you should hook in. Sure, everybody else is doing it, you're not harming anybody else, if it was such a major problem olives would be illegal right?

So you roll over languorously, after deciding you will maybe open the olive jar and just sample the liquid. Whats the harm? nobody will notice a tiny bit of liquid missing from a jar of olives, surely. If its a major drama, you can always backfill the jar with cold tea and nobody will be any the wiser.
So you head straight for the kitchen and grab the olive jar firmly. There's a reassuring snap as you crack the seal, and like a bogan leaving a tattoo parlour you realise there's no going back.
You inhale the vapours, thinking of Thessalonika or wherever they make olives, and gingerly taste the fluid. You roll it over your tongue like a hairdresser at a wine tasting, nodding slowly and moaning with pleasure.
So you quickly put the jar back and go back to bed. But you toss and turn and just cant sleep, knowing those greasy little berries are wiggling their backsides at you, more or less.
So you decide enough is enough, and race back to the kitchen with your eyes bulging out like a madman. Throwing all caution to the wind, you clumsily grab the jar in desperation, breaking a few jars of pasta sauce in your haste. Discarding the lid you raise the jar to your lips, the liquid running down both sides of your chin and all over your chest. You know from past experiences how badly olive juices stain the carpet, but you're past the point of caring now.
You chomp those Mediterranean morsels like they're about to be prohibited, eventually you rest against the kitchen bench, totally spent. The jar is empty now, you even used a chopstick to get a few that rolled under the stove, and now all you can think to do is hide the evidence and pretend nothing ever happened.

A friend texted me a recipe not long ago and I wasted half a day scouring the shops for an ovenproof fish. By the time I realised it was a mistake I had lost my appetite.

It's a good job I think the world of the friend in question.

Do you like painting your fingernails?