Tag: whiskey

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))

Welcome back to Hobo Fortnight at Edible Unknown, where I'll put down my tin-can soups and edible whatnottery until such time as my pile of paychecks become fungible. Tonight, I'll be using the metaphysical SCIENCE!! of alchemy and antimatter.

Now, every red-blooded American child has known one fact since their vagrant mother sent them a cheap Radio Shack science kit (with magnets!!) in the mail: opposites attract. And, in so doing, they change the fundamental properties of the whole. Riddle me this. Hydrogen is 'splodey. So is oxygen. Together, they make water, which under most situations won't ignite no matter how many times you hold a blowtorch to it. So, in the quest to drink myself into a coma until such time as I can afford to buy the food that makes this site exist, can several horrible tasting things that have lurked in the fridge since the ancient ones first founded their aquatic R'lyeh underneath the cruel tides somehow... synergize into something wonderful and tasty? Especially if it contains alcohol? In the name of American Science, I was willing to find out.

Now, the ancient Aztecs did this. They took bitter cocoa, mixed it with pepper, and made a drink. Of course, nobody knows if it was tasty, but I bet anyone who complained turned into the next 'virgin' crop sacrifice. Here's what I had in the fridge that I was willing to sacrifice:

1. A twelve-pack of Vault Zero.

This was a mistake buy. Vault tastes like an energy drink; Vault Zero, which is presumably lacking in calories, fats, tars, nicotine, vitamins, and drinkability, tastes like an extremely diluted septic tank which has, through the miracle of years of decay, begun to produce its own internal bubbliness.

However, on the way home, Vitamin A (ever sensitive to my plight of not having booze to turn my Seroquel 1-2 into a knockout punch) told me that she had some flat Rockstar and vodka in a water bottle.

My interests were noticeably piqued.

Did I dare do it? Did I dare mix two energy drinks with booze? WOULD THE EDIBLE UNKNOWN KITCHEN BURN LIKE GOMORRAH AT THIS UNHOLY CONCOCTION?

Obviously, the perceptive reader can tell from my vomitous prose that the experiment has already taken place.

First, I sampled the mixture. I'm not sure what the origin of this rancid bile was, but at some point in time she'd come home reeking of distilled grain and managed to lose two bottles of liquor in my car (I discovered them today. Joy!)

Apparently, even running off of alcohol combustion, she wouldn't drink it. I don't blame her. The energy drink portion had somehow lost its spirit, soul and essence; it turned normally bitterharsh vodka into something mellow and thoroughly unpalatable, like regurgitated scotch.

In the interests of being a Patriotic Citizen, I forged on.

Upon an equal mixture (the Rockstar/Vodka, by my estimation, was about 70% vodka), I took a sip. Then I immediately poured in more of the R/V mixture, to get rid of the horrid taste of Vault Zero.

Now it's a sippin' whiskey.

UPDATE: I think I just found a chunk in my drink.

UPDATE: Upon closer examination, it was just a really weird bubble.