Genius Loci 3: A whirlwind tour through the Carolinas...

By no means is this an exhaustive tour through the cuisine of the Carolinas because let's face it, I lack the funds for an exhaustive tour of anything beyond the first floor of our wee, humble abode.

This then shall be the essence of Genius Loci, a few quick highlights of a whirlwind tour through the Greater Charlotte Area (GCA.) The order is intentional:

1. HollyHoll's familial turkey recipe as executed by BGE (Big Green Egg) Tony, Tega Cay, SC. Said recipe involves two jars of Duke's mayonnaise (must be Duke's not that poseur to the throne Hellman's and we are definitely NOT talking the demon concoction known as Miracle Whip, PToooi!,) slathered lovingly/generously in and on the bird, then a low and slow smoke of several hours in the aforementioned Egg.

The resultant bird was moist, tender and absolutely fucking delicious. Hard to say this with exact certitude because I do not have a metric, but this may be the best turkey I have ever eaten. It was that good. 

That the chef executed this wonder after a marathon card playing session that lasted until dawn the night (or is it day?) previous, assembled the Egg just hours before and used it for the first fucking time, makes the result all the more extraordinary. The stuff of legend my friends.

1A. Randall Roll as executed by Sushi Chuck at Tega Cay Golf Club. Let's face it, special rolls are usually odd amalgams of ingredients tossed into a maki style roll without surety of the resultant whole. This roll is an amazing exception. Literally using Randall's favorite sushi ingredients, Sushi Chuck assembled a cohesive and representative slice of sushi excellence. That I cannot order one right now is a major source of disappointment to me.

3. Chicken wings at D.D. Peckers, Charlotte.  Finally...a place where they understand properly cooked chicken wings. My preference is classic cayenne sauced, Buffalo style wings (boring and old school I know,) but their Cajun spice dusted version were excellent.

4. Collard greens at 521 BBQ, Tea Cay, SC. REAL collards with a surprisingly delightful hint of chili heat. I do mean REAL collards. Around here we see some version of slow cooked greens. These days most usually employing kale. Fuck kale.

5. Duke's mayonnaise. We are a Hellman's family (it could be a DNA thing, I'll check with Ancestry.com) but I may have to reconsider. More on this later.

Before I sign off with a photo of the Randall Roll, I want to thank the entire GCA crew (names withheld to protect the innocent) for sharing their best with this grumpy, Yankee transient. Southern hospitality at its best yo. Peace and happiness.

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Make Do: cleaning the fridge

So what exactly does one do with half a jar of pasta sauce, three quarters of a jar of pizza sauce and the leavings at the bottom of the bottle that just are not worth the extraction effort from disparate bottles of gringo ketchup, Vietnamese chili garlic sauce and Pinoy spicy banana! ketchup?

I am sure if I asked, the Internets could tell me. The Internets are great at solving similar dilemmas, life hacks, shortcuts, information both useful and esoteric, etcetera and etcetera. 

Preventing the Russians from having a say in every fucking election being held in the world, meh not so much, but the Internets can sure tell you how to take off your shirt and save ten seconds while doing so.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen I am putting on my old fashioned thinking cap. In this case my thinking cap is an egg nog scented with Bacardi dark and I return to the heavy lifting of figuring out just what to do with the items in that photo.

So four out of five are tomato based, the other chili and garlic. What do I know that compromises tomato, chili and garlic? 

I wash up the dishes, put away the dry stragglers from the second dish drain (for those still in the analog world like me, two dish drains are a revelation my babies, no seriously) and then I lean against the counter for a proper think on the matter.

By now, I have finished my nog and am now onto a Mountain Dew grape flavored energy drink (like much of America these days, I am a ship adrift, terribly, terribly adrift) when it finally hits me: cacciatore! Rustic, wonderful, slow cooked, deliciousness!

All I will need is meat (chicken) and a jar of whole tomatoes (in the pantry) to add the requisite hunter's body to the too thin, sans toothsome chunks jarred pasta and pizza sauces, et voila!

That my friends is frugality in a photo, Steve's Clean the Fridge Cacciatore:

To the doubters you cannot taste the banana. 

I swear.

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Better than store bought Randy...

The above title was appropriated from one of my favorite TV shows, Trailer Park Boys. If you need context, Google the quote or "old blue jay burger."

I bought jarred Castelvetrano olives at Stop&Rob this morning. It was early.

It was early, because I try to be there before 7AM on the weekends, because S&R is now the only full line grocery store remaining in fabulous River City and I just cannot handle the crowds later in the day.

Crowds that combine a singular desire to complete their shopping in fifteen minutes or less with a could care less approach to how many people they run into, run over or run down like so many dogs in the road.

Setting aside my agoraphobia, it is never too early in the morning for a serious salt craving. Hence the olives.

But the store bought olives looked sad and they made me sad as I stowed them into our crowded refrigerator. I knew they were not everything an olive could be nor would they meet the expectations of my taste buds so recently returned from the Upstate NY haven of great Italian food all sorts, Schenectady, NY.

But onward Steven, ever onward the fridge needs cleaning.

So while tossing out a container of cottage cheese (it got pushed to the back behind the beer and had grown a mold colony of such variation and extreme unpleasantness, that I could not even bring myself to scrape it clean and wash it out for recycling. Humble apologies to Mother Earth for this failing,) I noticed the leftover container of Large Green Sicilian Olives (Spicy Hot) from last October's trip to Kalustyan's in NYC:

Correction, it was not a container of leftover olives, it was a container of the chili flake and neutral oil deliciousness that the olives had marinated in.

I was deeply skeptical that the container was not by now a biohazard, but after a deep sniff and tentative taste, I was able to determine that chili oil melange was in good standing.

In truth, though still in good standing, I was about to rinse out the container because even if it is still good, I have not used it in a year and there is a very good chance it could be in there for another before I figure out something creative to...and then I recalled the sad, store bought Castelvetrano olives. Eu-FUCKING-reka!

This is how you make olives better than store bought Randy:

Oh and Kalustyan's is a monument to amazing foodstuffs from around the planet.

Go there. If I can manage the crowds, you can too.

Kramer out.

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Today's burning culinary question:

Is Filipino spicy banana ketchup a suitable condiment for a Boarshead garlic bologna sandwich?

Why yes. It is suitable, quite suitable indeed.

When they say spicy ketchup, they mean spicy. Still tingling and I am halfway through a bowl of killed lettuce.

I love it.

And yes it is, clean out the fridge day.

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