Bacon Caramel

I'll admit -- and if you know me and are familiar with most of the cooking I do these days -- using bacon grease in my sweet culinary concoctions isn't unfamiliar territory.

It's far, far from.

What started with smoky molasses cookies quickly morphed into bacon cornbread, bacon pumpkin muffins, bacony no-bake cookies and, as of recently, bacon caramel.

Yes, that's caramel made with bacon grease in lieu of butter.

I know, I know; it's not what one would call healthy.

Blame Christmas. Or rather, blame Jason and Clara for shoving Christmas spirit so far down my throat that I went on a baking and holiday cooking frenzy, whipping up my regular batch of cookies plus recipes for hot cocoa, chai tea and caramel.

Now, the caramel didn't begin as bacon caramel. Considering the popular coffee-caramel duo (Not a personal favorite of mine, but I get how the flavor profile works, not to mention the fact that having caramel, thanks to the hefty amount of whipping cream it requires, would make my stomach flip flop like my dad's on a ferris wheel.), I first thought up of coffee flavored caramel, using instant coffee (Real espresso would have been so much better but a girl without an espresso machine has to compromise).

That first batch didn't work out...not so much because of the flavors, but because, when it comes to making caramel (Actually when it comes to making most things), I was too impatient with the sugar (1 1/3 cup sugar and 6 TSBPs water). When making caramel, you've got to really let the sugar (derrrr) caramelize; it takes about 8 or 9 minutes of constant boiling, while occasionally brushing the sides with a wet pastry brush to really get the sugar where you want it.


Not only will its golden color be indicative of its readiness, but when you pour in the cream (2/3 cup) and fat (1/3 cup), it'll bubble up and release lots of steam (My poor right hand is currently ailing from a hefty bout of bacony-caramel steam).

Unfortunately, with that first batch of coffee caramel, I didn't get that bubbling steam. All I got was a little bit of melting...which meant that the caramel didn't thicken up, leaving me with a syrupy coffee-flavored syrup.

Hands on my hips, I realized my mistake and began again...

Yes, that's a 2 cup pyrex of bacon grease

...and that's when I saw it, sitting so complacently and innocently on my counter. Beckoning with its halo of smoky, saturated fat deliciousness...one of three coffee cup containers of bacon grease that Jason had been saving for me.

Cue light bulb in my mind.

Thus bacon caramel was born. Unfortunately, nobody got to actually enjoy that batch, save for a mere finger lick, thanks to a gang of TSA bullies who used their jerk-headed might and big muscles and weapons and super scary threats to confiscate the jar of bacon caramel I made for Jason's parents, wrapped in a nice Christmas ribbon and all, from Jason's death grip vice (He offered to eat it to prove that his girlfriend's Christmas gift to his parents wasn't actually a homemade bomb). All 16 ounces of bacony sweetness into the trash.

Bastards.

The batch that didn't work out. 

But today friends, today was a glooooorious day. As anyone might expect after reading the above prologue, today was bacon caramel-making day. Much like the coffee caramel, I lacked patience with my sugar and ended up with more of a bacon caramel simple syrup that didn't thicken up. Rest assured, it won't go to waste; Jason's taking it to the coffee shop tomorrow with him to experiment with lattes and macchiatos...so for any Portlanders who read my blog and are curious in this concoction, maybe juuuuuuuust maybe you can con him into whipping up a bacon caramel latte.

Okay sidebar: Speaking of new latte flavors, we went to Baker and Spice today after the farmer's market and had a maple latte. They make their own maple, in barrels and everything. Oh man aliiiiiiiive it was delicious. End sidebar.

The batch that did. 

Luckily, rounds two and three of bacon caramel worked out perfectly. Thick, luscious, golden brown caramel. Two batches with a little honey and two batches with a little dark molasses; the latter which is the apex, thus far, of bacony caramel goodness.

My mind's already racking up tweaked recipes....paprika and chili pepper for a smoky spice, the oh-so-loved sea salt, maple sugar, bourbon...

The possibilities are endless. Unfortunately my bacon grease supply is not. And that only means one thing.

Bring on the bacon!

New Year's (Non) Resolution

Back in mid November I came across a contest in The Oregonian's FOODday section that hooked my eye. Basically, you write down a cooking resolution for 2011 with the chance to win tickets to see Michael Pollan speak at my alma mater, the University of Portland.

Shoot yeah I was game.

So I entered a quick blurb:

"As a cook stretching my culinary prowess and local-food knowledge, I pledge to make a new meal each week using a local, seasonal ingredient that I've never used before."

I forgot all about it until Grant Butler, an editor at FOODday emailed me asking my location within the city.

I forgot all about it yet again until a friend sent me a photo of my resolution in the newspaper (So much for being an avid newspaper reader, eh?)

And so now, here I am, on the second of January, and I feel, well...a bit more than obligated to follow through on this resolution.

Obligated...yet excited.

So, with each new meal, expect a new blog post.

Today's was just...the primer; the appetizer if you will to inform you that January's ingredients will be:

Rutabaga
Black Radish
Fenugreek
Mushrooms (Lion's mane, oyster or enoki; depends what I can find at the Hillsdale Farmer's Market next Sunday).

I'm not sure what'll be first; I'm thinking that, since I've got a 1 1/2 pound fillet of fresh halibut resting nicely in my fridge, that it'll be something that'll accompany the subtle, meaty flavor of the fish.

Week one recipe, photos and review to follow...

A month later...

Yikes. It's been a very long time since I've posted a blog. I was chatting with a friend today who is blogging about his gardening expeditions who (on another Google chat occasion) confessed, after having previously boasted how easy and profitable blogging is...that everyone could do it, that updating a blog regularly takes more work than he originally thought.

Duh.

Sure, it's time consuming and, if you're a perfectionist or work-a-holic like me, the need to write a well-crafted column after a 10 or 12  or, like last Wednesday, 15 hour work day, is just plain crazy. Of course, I could be like my coworker and blog during work in lieu of working on a script but I actually enjoy my job and find that working on anything else during the day is well, to be Captain Obvious, counterproductive.

(Caveat: I know I published this during work today but I already had it written so I am by no means a hypocrite....right?)

At any rate, it's been far too long since I've blogged, which is unfortunate because I have so many wonderful things to write about (Which people are of course, dying to read about...maybe...hopefully...in my dream world, anyway)...

...Like our new apartment (Hello roof top neighbors)...

...And Fourth of July weekend when Meghann visited (Hello bottle of tequila)...

...And my new obsession with brackets [Hello new aside tool]...

...And coming back to Pottery Barn (Hello floor set)...

...And figuring out how to triumph over an office bully (Hello alter ego)...

...And starting a book club at work (Hello Ayn Rand)...

...And, you know, life in general (Hello World).

So enjoy the next few posts as I try to play catch up for the past month of the virtual cold shoulder.

The New Powell's

I can't remember the last time I stepped inside of Powell's. I can't even remember the last book I purchased. And that hurts.

A lot.

Powell's, as any English degree-bearer or major or professor will profess is Portland's own mecca for all book (and yes I mean book...as in the real, physical paper-made, page-turning entity that is a book) lovers. For me, Powell's is so much more than merely a mecca -- it's my absolute sanctuary amidst this crazy city. Whenever I'm feeling down, a trip to Powell's always cheers me up. If I'm in the mood to celebrate, I head to Powell's to grab a few new reads. Heck, one of my favorite dates of all times has been at Powell's, walking around, drinking coffee and talking books (The date was great but the relationship didn't really last).

On top of that, I can, hands-down, say that the best Christmas gift I've ever received was a $50 gift card to Powell's. While I don't typically enjoy giving or receiving gift cards (they're impersonal, sort of lazy and not nearly as fun to open as a big, paper-wrapped box), this one meant a lot to me because Santa (okay, my parents) realized that I really really REALLY wanted it...perhaps with more fervor than I wanted the second job I just landed.

I also may have imagined how dorkishly romantic it would be to be proposed to in the middle of the blue (fiction, poetry and anthologies) section.

Yeah, Powell's is that important to me. So, considering my background and love for Powell's, I'm sure it makes sense why I'm jonesing for a Powell's fix. Unfortunately for my bank account, whenever I go to Powell's, even if just for one specific book, I end exiting the double doors on 11th and Couch with at least three more books than I went in for.

And so, like any Portland addict (meth, marijuana, Stumptown espresso; the drug doesn't matter...we all scratch with fiendish anxiety) struggling to make ends meat, I had to find another outlet. Luckily, a solution was easy to come by: The Multnomah County Library.

It has books...oodles and oodles of them. It lets you puts books on hold over the internet. Furthermore, it ships those books you put on hold via the web to the library closest to you. AAAAAAND, it's f-r-e-e.

It's not quite Powell's, but it's close.

I first started going to the library early after graduation when I didn't have internet at my apartment on Glisan. However, over the last month, I've been frequenting the tiny corner library on NW Thurman and NW 23rd Avenue on a more regular basis.

And just like Powell's, populated with its hippie youngsters, mysteriously cute 20-somethings and, like most popular Portland hang outs, crazies, the library houses a variety of Portlanders. One time there was a man who kept asking a librarian to use the word "figment" in a sentence that doesn't include the phrase, "of your imagination." Another time there was a man who refused to keep his bike outside because he was convinced the rain demons were going to make his bicycle appear drop by drop. Then there was the lady who went psycho because her free-allotted time for the internet had expired and the other guy who hit on me by asking, "Hey, yeah, paid holds are the way to go, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," I replied as he looked at my, let's face it, non-existent chest. "They enable to me to look for books without running into weirdos." Insert smile-flashing here.

At any rate, the library is a wonderful public service that I have, for such a long, long time, ignored...for reasons I'm not entirely certain of. Perhaps it is my inability to turn books on time (and thus incurring ridiculous fees. I actually didn't receive my college diploma because I owed over $20 to UP's library) or my fear of finding an elaborate terrorist plot tucked neatly in between the pages of the latest Christopher Moore book; nevertheless, I've always shied away from libraries.

Until now. Now, I'm all up in the library's business. I have six books at home and another 14 on hold. I'm signed up for the 2010 NW Portlander's monthly book club and the librarian knows me by name.

Which really, is probably okay. I'll be worried when the regular crazies (Yes, I already know there are regular crazies) begin addressing me by name. I figure I've got a solid two months until that happens, depending on the individual's senility.

For now, I'm off to finish book number three in five days...

Cosmo Karma

I'm not drinking for a week. At least. Two hangovers in one week is more than enough for me -- or really anyone, for that matter -- to handle. Thursday's PBR hangover wasn't too bad since all I had to do was work a princess shift at Pottery Barn (princess shift = four hours, according to one of my six managers). Today's hangover...oh dear...is

so

much

worse.

The nausea and constant on-a-boat (Not in the good, Andy Samberg way, unfortunately) sensation I'm experiencing today (yes, still at 1:15 pm) is all in thanks to a much-anticipated Pottery Barn Christmas party at a manager's killer Northwest Portland pad that overlooks the entire city. I think I can blame the fuzzies in my head to the fact that, prior to cosmo number one, all I had eaten was a carrot raisin oat bran muffin (which is my near-daily indulgence that I get from Zupans and am quite certain that I'm fairly addicted to them), two cups of coffee and a small handful of breast cancer-friendly peanut M&Ms. I can also place blame on the fact that the cosmo was, hands down, the stiffest drink possibly imaginable to man. It was more vodka than juice, packing more of a punch than punch should pack.

By the time cosmo two rolled around, I had taken a few girlfriend bites of a pulled pork sandwich and had snacked on some deliciously salty tortilla chips and home made guacamole (Passing up on anything avocado is heresy in my book). My stomach, that poor, neglected organ of mine, attacked those nibbles of food like Northwest Portlanders attacked the shelves of bottled water during last week's e-coli scare, pushing and shoving to get it all, all, all. Unfortunately (at least for me today), my stomach sucked up vodka at a less-than-desirable rate as well.

I was wasted. Embarrassingly so. I still can't recall what time we left the party last night nor do I remember much of the ride home (Thanks again, Clara). I somehow managed to hang my keys on the light switch, which hangs about six inches to the left of where my key hook actually is. I was also able to lock my door although I do recall fumbling with it for a solid 45 seconds (Which, in drunk-recall time, could actually have been minutes or hours). Negating these so-called feats of mine is the fact that I dropped my new phone, cracking open the back case (No Mom, it's not broken) and had a great conversation -- that I can't really recall fully -- before passing out in my wool tights and flannel dress (That's a terrible description of what is actually one of my favorite outfits).

The worst part about today's hangover is that I am carrying it around with me all day through the, not one, but TWO job interviews I have today. I was able to keep it buried during my first one (I'll attribute that to adrenaline) but now, while waiting for my second one, I'm feeling a bit nauseated again. I've eaten more today than I have in the past two days (Eggle Bagle sandwich for breakfast, pho for lunch and enough coffee to fuel a medium-sized office) and have been popping advil like crazy. I know I should be more excited for this next interview but all I can think about is how wonderfully inviting a pair of big sweatpants, my old man slippers and a baggy t-shirt sound. Add in some bad TV, my favorite fleece blanket and perhaps a few slices of vegan pizza and I'll be golden.

If I can just make it through the next three hours, I'll be golden. Three more hours and I can recoup. Three more hours and I can take off my give-me-a-job boots (Not to be confused with fuck-me boots or fuck-me pumps) and give my hangover the proper attention it deserves. I did work hard for it, after all.

Some might say my priorities aren't straight but hey, at least I have goals in life. Right?

The Next David Sedaris?

I did a really, really, really bad thing yesterday.

Well, perhaps bad isn't the correct word. Shameful or pitiful might be more accurate describers of the act that I pulled off after walking home after a seven hour shift at Pottery Barn last night. You see, during my lunch break, I checked my email at my favorite local coffee shop, Fat Straw, only to find out that the great personal assistant job that I landed just three weeks ago had been taken away from me, thanks to an MBA-wielding smarty pants who can apparently do his and my job with ease. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling all that great about myself after my break and spent the final three hours of my shift indulging in major self-loathing and moping (Not even my manager's attempts at playing cupid were helping lift my spirits). The self-loathing continued as I passed by the Plaid Pantry, picked up a six pack of Full Sail IPA ($5.98 for a six pack = the city's cheapest prices), a box of Mike and Ikes and headed home to peruse Craigslist, yet again.

And this is when the really, really, really bad/shameful thing happened. Even though I have a degree and have a lot to offer the world outside of retail, I still found myself scrolling down the pages of open retail positions. One caught my eye in an almost ironically sardonic fashion:

Macy's Santaland in Downtown Portland is hiring!

Full and Part Time Seasonal positions available immediately!

Greeter, Photographer, Cashier and PC Computer Operator positions for seasonal Christmas employment. Santaland work hours begin during the week of Nov 16 thru Dec 24. Must have a neat appearance, pleasant personality and enjoy working with the public. No prior experience necessary...we will train all staff. However, being handy on a PC computer is extremely handy!

We offer flexible scheduling, full and part time hours and a wage/bonus of $9.50 DOE. Must be able to pass a background test and drug test prior to employment.

Please reply with the email above or at MacysSantaland.com Please list the position of interest, resume/prior experience, and availability during the season.

We have lots of fun!

While downing the last ounces of my IPA, the nasally voice of David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors, entered my head. The author became famous after writing and reading on This American Life, Santaland Diaries, essays about his experience as a Macy's Christmas elf. Maybe I could do the same?

Cracking open my second beer and washing away almost all self-respect, I totally applied. For nearly 500 words I gushed about how much I adore little kids, how much I love the holiday season and how I am more than capable -- excellent, actually -- at keeping my cool during crazy and hectic situations (Can you figure out the one truth in that list?). I've been promised to be contacted in two business days. Expect an update soon.