Deep fried chicken strips, mixed green salad

Chicken fingers if you like, but that would be ridiculous as chicken lips. This is a single frozen chicken breast cut into strips, dredged in seasoned flour, drenched in milk, dredged back into the same seasoned flour, shallow fried at 350℉.

Salads more simple than this are called lettuce. This has a few sprigs of lemon basil and Genoese basil clipped from the Aerogarden because those two were outpacing the other things up there again. It made for a very interesting alteration. Olive oil first then rice vinegar at the very end. Salt and pepper. 

Breakfast, eggs, jalapeños, cheese, fried potato

This is the sort of thing I do all the time, so you see it here all the time. Today, the leftover baked potato neglected for a day on the dining table following a dinner party is used before they become completely worthless. This proves it is hard to kill a potato. A gigantic container of fresh jalapeño peppers also left several surplus so two of those are used too. Most of the inner membrane with almost all the seeds of the chile peppers were left intact and discarded as a complete bunch of seeds. That left very little seed-holding membrane remaining on the flesh, so these two chile peppers were disappointingly insufficiently hot with capsaicin. This teaches me -- now what does it teach me? -- to leave more of the membrane, to allow more of the seeds, to get over my seed eating aversion, to take more care to include more membrane, to supplement with cayenne or habanero, to not care so much about  capsaicin heat. I don't know. 

The photos tell the sequence by themselves.

Before that, here is an update on the Easter basket bags, an email from Deena, the building manager. She would be the only person I know about who would connect the Egyptian boxes to me. I almost left it out of her bag but then that would cheat her out of my chocolates just to keep a secret so I weighed one against the other and chose forfeiture of my own anonymity over chocolate withholding from her. In these small ways I am such a martyr in my mind. 

I think the Easter Bunny stopped at my place while I was gone….it was awesome!

Regards,

Deena McDonald 

This tells me she traveled on Easter and returned Monday night for work on Tuesday, today. That she plays along and says Easter Bunny instead of addressing me directly implies she intends to keep my identity secret. She's quite good about discretion. That is, should anybody inquire and they probably will with the assumption that every resident got a bag, then her answer will be coy "the Easter Bunny." And that tickles me silly. I am also very well chuffed that the bag sat there for two full days without being stolen. This partially reaffirms my faith in humanity although I hold open the option to remain cynical about it.  

So it's all about mise en place then in'nit. What is that Boy Scout's motto again? Oh yes, "Always be prepared." That always seemed like such vacuous nonspecific unhelpful prescription. Be prepared for what? Everything? Do you realize how burdensome that is for the youthful developing male mind? It means to carry a condom in your wallet even though it might be years before you have the chance to use it. Nothing as useful as "Always chose #2 pencil over #3 or #4" or "Tie a double slip knot for securely laced shoes." But here the motto actually is helpful, necessary in fact.

Breaded and fried flounder, juicy delightful salad, filthy floor

Sweet mustardy raspberry vinaigrette.

* Olive oil. Just pour some in a bowl, the amount you imagine will cover everything you intend to be covered but no more, possibly even less. 

*  Vinegar. Enough to acidify the oil you poured.

*  Mustard. The amount that you would like to have.

*  Raspberry preserves. Enough to sweeten the whole thing without being too saccharine. 

*  Salt and pepper and anything else you would like

Another metal bowl of the same size was reversed over this as a bulbous lid. Carefully clamping two opposite edges, so this is a two-handed technique, if you have only one hand then forget about it or use an actual clamp. At any rate, now you have empty space the area of a full bowl. Upturn the bowl so that the dressing that is whisked in the bottom is now on the top. Shake the two bowls while clamping hard so that there is no slippage or spillage and really slam the thing around. Ta daaaaa. None of this pansy tossy-toss fooling around . That's why the bowl is such a mess ↑.

Two rounded tablespoons of flour are dumped into a pie pan. This is an excess of flour, about half of it will be wasted, maybe a little less. Season with an excess of spices with everything except salt, because pteewww, too much salt is awful. 

*   Salt 

*  Pepper, a LOT of pepper

*  Cayenne

*  Garlic powder

*  Coriander, because apparently I am a nut for coriander

*  Mixed Italian herbs, because I don't know why. 

The mixture is whisked and then used to both coat the pieces of fish so that the batter will hold on, then mixed with milk to form a batter. This is why you prepare a little extra -- because you need to make sure there is enough batter to coat the pieces of fish. There is nothing worse than insufficient batter and then there you are pushing the fish around trying your best to get the last drop and it ends up not entirely coated. Better to have extra. Flour dulls the flavor of everything. That's why you have to use more spices than you might think is reasonable at first blush. Having said that, as it turned out I put way too much cayenne in this so both the initial coating and the batter were excessively hot. But I like that. Makes it interesting. And these white fish pieces are basically nothing flavor-wise anyway. But if you were entertaining then you'd definitely want to go on the dull and little bit boring side. 

Deep or shallow fry the partially frozen coated fish in 350℉/175℃ vegetable oil. 

This concludes the post on flounder. Except to note the flounder was tiny. Oi, such tiny flounders. They are like baby flounders. If I were a fisherman, I'd be embarrassed to sell them. In fact, I feel a little bit ripped off. 

Okay so there's that. Now for something entirely different that is totally gross. Stop reading right now unless you want to see something disgusting. 

This morning I had difficulty putting on my socks, and this confused me. Then I really had to cram my feet in my shoes real hard. And then I couldn't lace them up normally, and I'm all WTF? So I take my foot out of my shoe, take off my sock to see what's wrong and then I'm totally all, WTF? 

I steam-cleaned my carpets before a party on Friday because my humble abode would be swarming with guests. 

Oh! that reminds me, I just now got an email from Joseph. He's the business owner that likes to explore restaurants with me. He is a generation distant from myself and I know why I enjoy his company so well, he is a very interesting person with much experiences to share, but for the life of me I have no idea why he enjoys mine. He flies around all the time all over the place, but takes a moment to write: 

Hi Chip,

The party for Paul was great and you did a superb job of pulling it off, considering the number of people. Did not realize it was going to be such an event. Sorry I was not more help but was really hurting from a VERY trying week. Really did want to help you on Saturday but you seemed to have it under control. The food was just as great the next day and was all gone by Sunday, and I only got one little portion, PG took care of the rest.

 BEST REGARDS, 

JOE

So I check my foot to see what's wrong and both of them are all swollen which was very confusing, and I noticed the edge of the bottom was black and then I was really really WTF ???!!!1111¡¡¡¡¡eleventeen-leventy-leven1111?????¿¿¿¿

I was walking around barefoot, but so what, I had just steam-cleaned the whole carpet and cleaned the tiled floors like a charwoman. I even hosed the balcony and scrubbed it with soap and a stiff broom. So how come my hoofies became so dark? Huh? Did people really track in that much dirt? 

Let this be a lesson. It's a lesson about ... something about dirt ... something about shoes and a lot of people all at once ... and ... well, I don't know what it means. 

It means I have to steam-clean my carpet all over again. 

With this thing.

It's a super-dooper home steam cleaner that's used even for commercial purposes sometimes. It totally kicks ass on Rug Doctor. No comparison. 

Steam clean is an industry weasel-word. There is no steam involved, just very hot water. In fact, steam damages many types of carpets. Why they're allowed to get away with misleading disingenuous abuse of language just flat pisses me off, but there you go.

It holds four gallons of water. This bucket is dual purpose. There is another container directly under it and above the wheels. This blue bucket of water is used to measure the amount that is poured into the machine (along with the soap) 

The pouring-in hole is being covered by the spout of the bucket, but the whole bucket of water is emptied into the pouring-in hole. Then the bucket is empty and the machine is full, and the blue bucket becomes the receiving bucket for water vacuumed up from the carpet. Clever, eh? Anyway, this photo ↑ shows you how much non-sudsing soapy hot water eventually gets distributed over the carpet. My carpet took four such buckets full just hitting the traffic areas, not the whole carpet, as normally. I was too lazy to move around all the furniture, plus it wasn't actually necessary, I don't think.

Then the machine stops sucking up water. You can see that water is not being sucked up because the pipe is transparent so that the user can monitor the flow of water being taken up and the degree of filth. So eventually the machine itself fill up the blue bucket again with sucked-up dirty soapy water. The vacuum on this machine is fierce. Much stronger than a regular vacuum cleaner. It actually lifts up the carpet which is a bit scary. Throw rugs are impossible to clean because the machine will veritably ingest them. 

This is how much water is returned. See? It leaves behind very little water. Almost all the water is returned to the bucket, but now it is dirty water. Surprisingly dirty water. Shockingly dirty water.  Mind, the carpet was cleaned this way just four days ago. 

This is what the water pulled out of the carpet looks like.

Ewwww. See? I told you it was gross. That is why my hoofies got so brown. That is how much dirt people tracked in on Friday. I'm telling you, understanding this might put me off the idea of having people over unless I can arrange a team of cleaners to follow the next day because all this carpet cleaning is wearing me right out. 

Kinder Surprise

Doggonit!  

I totally spaced out putting these Kinder Surprises in the Easter bags. Hang on, I must now kick my own ass. 

* Kick*  Ow!

* Kick*  Ow!

* Kick*  Ow!

* Kick*  Ow!

That'll teach me.

Kinder Überraschung as these are the German version. I intended to include these in the Easter bags to get rid of them. The chocolate is very low quality and it doesn't get any better just sitting there. But what do kids know about quality? Nothing, that's what. After all, they've only been bouncing around on Earth for six or so years, what can they reasonably be expected to know about chocolate? Nothing!

How many times have you heard something like this? Americans prefer milk chocolate and Europeans prefer dark chocolate. Milk chocolate is what Americans grew up on, that is what Americans are used to, and so that is what Americans persist in preferring. Europeans, however, appreciate darker chocolates because that is what they grew up with and so their tastes are more refined and more appreciative of the real fuller thing. Just like beer. Just like bread.

That is a total crock. It must not be overlooked that chocolate is American. Not USA American, but rather New World American, Central American.  Europeans came late to the game, they are the people who developed the process of conching, by accident, as well as the process of producing milk chocolate, on purpose, and it is from Europeans then that the knowledge of modern-day chocolate produced by USA companies is derived including milk chocolate.

Europeans grew up on these. These Kinder Surprises right here. This is what all European children know first as chocolate, and by all, I mean ALL, every single one of them. In all European countries, and even Canada, children grow up with and are delighted by Kinder Surprises.

The chocolate shell is very thin. Very VERY thin. One super thin layer of milk chocolate and an inner very very thin thin shell of white chocolate. So thin as to hardly be worth it. Thin as an actual egg shell.

Inside the double layer milk chocolate/white chocolate shell is a yellow capsule. Inside the capsule is a toy. Sometimes the toy must be assembled. They used to assemble into something larger than the capsule they came in, which was amazing. Like a pop-up book but even better. All the toys I've opened recently are incredibly stupid and they just pissed me off because they made me feel cheated. First by bad chocolate because now I know better, and secondly with an unimaginative toy. But the toys used to be great and sometimes they still are, it's just that I never seem to get the good ones. There are series of toys. The toys are actually collected. Search [kinder surprise +toys] then view images to see immediately what I'm on about. I don't want to open one of these things right now just to show you, it's not worth ruining the anticipation for somebody else. I'd rather give them all away intact to children or to people who will give them to children. Like I said, the chocolate is gross but kids don't know that. Unless you're a little kid, they have nothing to offer. Still, adults who grew up with them feel an abiding fondness no matter how disappointing the toys have become.

Now I'm going to harshen the happy discussion. See? That up there ↑ was happy, this down here ↓ is harsh.

The joy and the wonder and the playfulness and the satisfaction that all European children enjoy is not available to American children. Why?

Because the American government banned Kinder Surprises from import, that's why.

So here we are then  face-to-face with the sheer banality that characterizes governmental bureaucratic mindset of any country. Somewhere within a department, a ministry, at some time, unknown and probably unknowable because anonymity and unaccountability are the hallmarks of the government functionary, somebody, some unknown unelected faceless apparatchik denied ALL US children access to what everybody else in the whole world gets to have freely, and banned for the rest of history into eternity, because in their overarching wisdom they know so much better than American parents can possibly know, that the toys inside the capsules are too easily swallowed by children and very likely to be swallowed too due to your inferior parenting supervision, a likelihood so obvious and powerful that your freedom of exchange must be curtailed. And it is all so easily avoided by simply banning them. BANG! Banned. An entire market shut out just like that.

You think you live in a free country. Hah! You can't even get a Kinder Surprise because you're too stupid to handle them properly. I am not trying to be offensive here. I am in fact deeply and gravely offended myself. Absurdly, I had to buy these Kinder Surprises on the black market just because my own government set up barriers to prevent us having them.

You hear that? They are illegal! Come and get me, you bastards! I'm over here distributing illegal prohibited contraband to unsuspecting children. BWAAAA Ha Ha Ha ha ha ha

Breakfast, poached eggs, potato

This breakfast makes use of leftover potatoes baked Friday night for a dinner party. The potatoes were hidden, wrapped in a kitchen towel, on the dining room table, sitting there all Saturday. Today is Easter Sunday late afternoon. They are very small, here are two of them chopped up.

These were the most cooperative poached eggs to date. A shallow pot of water was brought to the boil while the chill was taken off refrigerated eggs by resting briefly in a sink of hot tap water. As you well know by now, water boils at 10° cooler at Denver than it does as sea-level, even more cooler in the foothills, and cooler yet at altitude. So boiling water here is 202° even though it is boiling like mad and visibly evaporating like crazy. The pot is removed from the heat. Cider vinegar (only because there is a 1/2 gallon of it. The vinegar could be any kind at all) is carelessly dumped in quantity. I'd guess 1/4 cup or possibly even more. Not to worry, this will not make the eggs taste like vinegar. Almost all of it stays with the water. Very little of it stays with the egg, so don't hold back just because of that. The water is also salted. The egg is cracked into a ramekin then spilled into the hot water. One at a time, the whites of each of these eggs held together tightly, and none of the egg white stuck to the bottom of the pot. I'm usually not that lucky. 

Are they bee-you-tea-full or what?

Mexican queso blanco, which is surprisingly good. The kind that melts.

A simple gravy is whipped up in the same pan the potatoes were cooked.  Two or so teaspoons butter plus 1 teaspoon flour. Less flour than usual because cheese also thickens sauces. On the heat, commercial chicken broth is whisked in. The mixture boils furiously. Experts always tell you not to do this. Warm liquid into warm roux or they will insist cold liquid into warm roux off the heat. It's all nonsense. Just dump in the liquid and whisk immediately and all is forgiven. The only way you can go wrong is to not whisk immediately as you dump the liquid. Then adjust the liquid as necessary right there on the spot. At that point of adjustment you can even change liquids which has the benefit of adding depth and character to your sauce. I didn't do that today because every now and then I back off and become simple. 

The spices in the roux are the careless combination that was concocted last night for the hard-boiled Easter egg packages. There is an excess so I am using it now. What the heck, I love the stuff.  

Cheese is already a processed food. Cooking it tends to break it down, causes it to separate. We do not like that. Therefore, cheese is added off the heat. In this case, the pan was swirled to mix the cheese into the thickened broth. It never fully incorporated and had the appearance of cheese that separated, but that is a false impression. It never had a chance to fully melt much less to separate.