Pre-Historic Lizzard Gizzards

Voila!

 

Actually, its chicken gizzards–posted on  one of my favorite food blogs: RouxBDoux‘s

RouxBDoux is back posting up a storm. Glad you are back, RouxBDoux!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Proverbs 23:6-7, Unfortunate Recipe Edition:

Do not eat the bread of a man who is stingy;
do not desire his delicacies,
for he is like one who is inwardly calculating.
“Eat and drink!” he says to you,
but his heart is not with you.
(Proverbs 23:6-7)

I know, because I worked for that son-om-a-bitch!

 

 

A Not So Unfortunate Salad

 

From Nola.com is a pic of a beautiful salad.

 

Then this back-handed complement…

Bad restaurant concepts are like botched nose jobs and six-figure automobiles: They tend to highlight the deficiencies they are designed to hide. Le Meritage’s concept is not bad. It is merely flawed, and its biggest flaw is in giving diners the impression that wine is the star of this restaurant when that is far from the case — not as long as Michael Farrell is in the kitchen.

 

 

 

Always Keep a Firm Grip On The Meat Cleaver.

Toes, its what for dinner!

 

 

via I’m Mad and I Eat

 

 

An Unfortunate Attempt at Parkerhouse Rolls

But after she shaped them, she looked at the rolls, and she looked at me, and I looked at her, and I looked at the rolls, and we looked at each other looking at the rolls, and the rolls looked like…eh, well you can see what the rolls looked like.

 

Happy Thanksgiving! S. Weasel

Courtesy of 18thC Cuisin….Proust v. Lestat

Proust

From In Remembrances of Things Past, here is Proust’s description:
…when one day in winter, on my return home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent for one of those squat, plump little cakes called petites madeleines, which look as though they had been molded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell. And soon, mechanically, dispirited after a dreary day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shiver ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had the effect, which love has, of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it-was-me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. When could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I sensed that it was connected with the taste of the tea and the cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savors…

Lestat

In the winter of my twenty-first year, I went out alone on horseback to kill a pack of wolves

RIP Kevin D. Weeks of Seriously Good.

Biggles has the requium
RIP. I admired your work.
The wayback machine has some of Kevin’s work here: http://web.archive.org/web/20110511232729/http://www.seriouslygood.kdweeks.com/