Tag: orange

The main reason I'm posting is for the next person that searches google to try to find tvorog in Las Vegas. I searched for "Russian Market Vegas" and "Russian Market Las Vegas" and found nothing useful. Google's lies cost me $10 in wrong purchases and probably $20 more in gas. Hopefully Supercook can give me something to do with greek yogurt and bulgarian white cheese.

They don't have a web site, but their address is:
Jones Market & Deli aka Eastern European Market aka
3389 S Jones Blvd (Jones and Desert Inn, behind Winchell's)
Las Vegas, NV 89146
The girls that work there are all like hot spies.

Back to Russian night..
I made a Honey "Mousse" and Zapekanka iz Tvorog (Tangy Baked Lemon Pudding). The honey mouse was crap, so I won't even talk about it. I think maybe I needed to know something about making mousse to make it work. I blame the recipe. In fact, the recipe and the person that wrote it can assossee mayee yaitsa.

Everything everyone made was good except my honey crap. Of course mine was crap. That's right, laugh. Smekh smekhom, a pizda kverkhu mekhom, suka. Yup, fur.

Lisa's Borscht was especially surprising, because it wasn't the most disgusting thing I've ever had like I expected it to be. The kid seemed to love it.

Enough to mix with oatmeal:



My Zapekanka iz Tvorog was really good. I'm not sure if the consistency was how it should be, but it was damn tasty...
300g tvorog
Juice of 1 lemon
Zest of 1 lemon
2 eggs
1/2 cup sugar

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Separate the egg yolks from the whites, and beat the whites until fluffy. Blend in the tvorog , lemon zest and juice, and sugar to taste.
Pour the mixture into a small- medium sized greased ceramic baking dish.
Bake for 20 minutes.

Serve drizzled with a sauce made from the juice of one orange and a teaspoon or two of honey, warmed together.

Here's how it looked:

I would love to tell you all what I ate at Kobe, but I really have no idea. Now you may be thinking of course you have no idea it has been almost a month since you ate there. Well, that really has nothing to do with it. I didn't remember what I ate when I left there either.

Here is the problem. Once the fish is cut and put on to a piece of rolled up rice, it all looks the same to me; except for Tai which looks extremely different from the tuna.

So all I know is that I ate a lot of raw fish. Included in that line up was at least 4 pieces of Tai (Red Snapper), some Toro (Fatty Tuna), probably some Maguro (Tuna) and Albacore (White Fish), and one order of Hotategai (Scallops wrapped in Nori). I also had some Philadelphia and Cucumber Rolls and an order of Tomago (Egg Nigiri).

As you can see I ate a lot. I could have sat there longer and eaten more, but that would get mighty expensive.

After we left Kobe we went to the Orange Pearl Yogurt Store where I got a Strawberry Mango Smoothie. That helped to finish filling me up.

I have to say that Kobe is where I first fell in love with Tai. I had liked sushi before the Tai, but I did not yet have a love for it. Then I decided to order Tai. It came out looking different from the other fish. It is white with a slight red color to one side of it. And a slice of lemon tops it. Tai has a sweetness to it that is remarkable. If you aren't sure about sushi or have not yet fallen in love with it I must suggest trying Tai. It may convert you for life (I'm talking to you too Mrs. Savory!).

Kobe I love you and your Tai! I'll be back soon.

Happy Thanksgiving and related holy days from Edible Unknown! My particular Thanksgiving opened my eyes to the wonders of allspice, a Carribean ingredient named by the English, who thought that it included the flavors of cloves, nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon, among others.

You see, I was making dinner, and in lieu of turkey (which I bloody well hate, no matter what Ben Franklin thought) we had this honey-cured ham. Not being in my normal kitchen, I searched around the spice cabinet, which had unfortunately been through a bit of a downsizing (as no-longer fresh spices were removed). So I did what any good person faced with a ham might do- I took a slice, started dumping spices on my hand, and took several taste tests until I came up with a combination I could do well with.

This was a bit of a shotgun Thanksgiving in the sense that the shopping had already been done, and I had not enough time to make anything representing a marinade. After using foil paper, a well-sized crockery, and some water to build a punk-rock dutch oven for the ham, I patted every inch I could with a mixture of allspice, garlic powder, salt, and pepper, then combined more of this in some melted butter (for drenching it halfway through the cooking process).

Another hurdle to overcome was the organic sweet potatoes, which turned out not to be the ordinary orange tubers we are all used to, but instead a starchy, thin, white-flesh job. Starchy as they were, I didn't think straight baking would be enough, so I dismantled some potatoes and put them into a casserole with some water, baked until soft, mashed, then mixed with orange juice, cloves, black pepper, butter, and brown sugar. When the ham was out and the oven set to broil (to roast some corn on the cob), I sprinkled brown sugar across the top of the casserole and let it caramelize.

It wasn't particularly bad, but as often happens with experimental dishes, it was much better once the flavors had time to set. Or so I heard, the next day.

Here's to holiday adventure! See you later, when I'll be discussing how best to cook relatives who overstay their welcome.

Believe it or not, we at EU have a life similar to that of normal people. We learn, we laugh, we love, and we have thanksgiving dinner. As such, I have duly been appointed by the gods of thanksgiving cookery (hereafter known as injuns) to make sweet potatoes. I know what you bastards are all thinking, you're all thinking about how Teleolurian would look in a mini skirt. I mean, you're all thinking that potatoes are easy, you just boil, mash and marshmellow. Alas, this is the lazy american way of cooking. We practice the Zao Zo Zi Ha Ping Wong or the study of the eternal sunshine of the majestic yam.

First, young potatowan, we must select the right potatoes. The right potato has bright orange flesh with reddish skin. If you're not sure what color the flesh is by the look of the potato, go ahead and take a bite. No one will notice. I promise. If it is indeed orange. Congratulations! Place sweet potatoes into a vegetable bag (about 2 pounds worth). Some grocery stores have scales as to weigh the potatoes. The way these work is you sit on top of one, wait for a grocer to come around and scorn you, slap grocer with bag of potatoes and gauge his injuries. If he's still yelling at you (but slightly pissed off) then you do not in fact have enough potatoes. If he is unconscious, then you most likely have around 2 pounds. If he is dead, you probably want to take a few of the potatoes out, as you have too much. Also, you may want to stuff his lifeless corpse in the corn bin, otherwise by the time you get out of prison your potatoes will have gone bad and thanksgiving will have long been deemed an ancient tradition saluting the once proud indian tribes of North America. The next couple of things you'll need are Heavy whipping cream, bourbon, light brown sugar, sweet sassy molassy, and salt. For the whipping cream, you can visit your local farm and smack around a cow that weighs more than 500 pounds. Then milk. Also, you may want to pasteurize the milk. I'm not quite sure how to do that, but I'm sure it has something to do with Louis Pasteur III and some fairies. Everyone knows that you get Bourbon out of your loco hobos pocket, or your Uncle Henrys hand after he's long since passed out watching badminton. Or maybe it was football. Light brown sugar, well, I can't stop laughing about the whereabouts I was going to put here, so lets just say, you get it at the store. Sweet sassin molassin is a product of the sasquatch and is typically found around or near their dens. If you can't find a sasquatch den, you'll most likely have to omit this ingredient. (Edit: I've just learned you can buy this at the store too, ambiguously named "Molasses"). Oh, don't forget the salt. Since you're probably a homosapien you produce this wonderful seasoning.

To recap, the base ingredients for this dish are: * 1 3/4 to 2 pounds of sweet potatoes * 1/2 cup heavy cream * 1/4 cup bourbon whiskey * 3 tablespoons light brown sugar * 2 tablespoons molasses * 1/8 teaspoon salt

Now for the oh so wonderous topping of magical tastiness +2.

• 1/2 cup all purpose flour
• 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper (you can use black, white is just prettier)
• one pinch dried thyme (not a handful. a PINCH)
• 1/2 cup chopped pecans (not to be confused with peacocks)
• 5 tablespoons butter, chilled and cut into eency weency cubes.

Now for the actual cookery/sorcery.

1. Preheat your oven/kiln/heating box/toaster oven to 350 degrees.
2. Place potatoes on a foil lined bakery sheet. (cookie sheet will do)
3. Bake until tender, and starting to ooze a syrup, also unicorns. This will take around an hour and 15 minutes, unless you live in Zimbabwe, in which case it will take 75 minutes. If you have mammoth potatoes (the ones that took over the earth there for a brief moment in 1992), then it may take a tad longer.
4. Remove from the oven and let sit until you can touch them without burning a whole in your pasty man flesh.
5. Cut a slit down each potato (not your wrist) and scoop the flesh into a large bowl. Be sure to cackle with glee otherwise the recipe will not come out right.
6. Add the cream, bourbon, brown sugar, molasses and salt, and use one of them new fangled mixing machines to beat the mixture until its as smooth as gator slaw in the springtime.
7. Pour into little casserole dish. Cover with foil so it doesnt go cold.

For the topping: 1. Mix all of the ingredients together thoroughly (except the butter!) in a small bowl. 2. Add the butter and work with your hands until a crumbly mass forms and calls you names. 3. spread evenly atop the potatoes, and bake until the top is nice and brown.

Serve! and hopefully people wont die!

(Note: nothing in here could kill anyone, except the sasquatch)

(Note #2: he wont hurt you because hes spending thanksgiving at my house)

(Note #3: I havent actually made this recipe. I just pulled it out of the nether regions of my brain because it sounds tastastic. I'll update with commentary on flavor later (subnote #1: After I stuff my gullet with turkey))

(Editor's Note: For some reason, Food Mime was logged into my box. I have sentenced him to scrubbing random vegetables. For the good of mankind. )

Hobo fortnight continues, as Vitamin A scrounges around her computer for something of Lost-Ark significance- my Recently Paid Credit Card.

Finding money in my account, through the magic of FINANCIAL ALCHEMY, I quickly ran up my total at the nearest grocery store, buying the cheapest food I could get my grubby insane little hands on. (Editor's Note: Teleolurian has freakishly long fingers. This would be a lot of food.)

Part of my purchase was plantains. I've mentioned them before, in a bananas article. I wanted to make some tostones. So I followed what few instructions I could remember without actually having to follow a recipe. Because I hate recipes with all my cold, Korean heart.

First, I tried to peel them. Ladies and gentlemen, peeling a plantain like a banana is fool's work. Plantain skins are like alligator handbags. They don't just fall apart, you gotta have something sharp to get at the tasty/valuable insides. For this, I used my favorite EXTREMELY SHARP HOLY CRAP chef's knife, which of course went through it like (1) hot butter, (2) cold air, (3) so many tortured screams of joy at my shiny awesome knife.

Once I'd made the incision, the skin came off like a prom dress. Next, I cut the plantain (which NOW finally looks like a banana, and not the Cousin-Itt version of one) into half-inch diagonals. Ladies? Gentlemen? If you spend money on one thing in your house, make it a 10" knife.

Next, I dumped obscene amounts of shortening into the smallest skillet I owned. It looked like Antarctica.

Once that all melted over medium-high, I dumped in just as many plantain chips as would cover the bottom. Now, as we should know from reading this site, tostones are plantain chips that are (1) fried (2) flattened (3) fried again. For your assistance, here is a small MSPaint diagram:

So, I scorched them all brown. Cross reference: chicken.

Next, I 'flattened' them. How I was to do that I wasn't sure, but in the absence of a meat tenderizer I used a fork. Squiggly maggots of white plantain flesh came up between the tines. (Oh, did I ruin your appetite?)

Next, I refried them. Now, I had two options:

Brown Sugar And Orange Juice: After taste testing, I REALLY wanted to candy them. Unfortunately, brown sugar wasn't on my menu.

Lime Juice and Salt: BINGO. I had some wonderful tostone-chips. They tasted like fried superawesomeness. I can't begin to describe them. WHAT ARE YOU DOING SURFING THE WEB? GO BUY PLANTAINS!!!