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So, it’s Wednesday night and I’m mixing up a dry rub, which can only mean two things. One, I’m completely out of Lucious the King’s Barbeque Seasoning, and two, I’m cooking for a crowd. If you’ve ordered a case of Lucious the King’s Seasoning recently, thanks a bunch. If you haven’t, you’ll want to do that soon, because just like everything else these days, the price is going up. Shameless plugs aside, We’ve got a family gathering coming up and my contribution is this picnic ham that will be appearing on a grill near me along about this Saturday.

I’m not straying too far from the traditional take on pork bar-be-que, it will be smoked over hickory, low and slow. The seasoning isn’t too radical, either. I’m going to “paint” the ham with a wet sauce and rub it down with a dry rub. Then I’m going to wrap it up for a day or so before I hit it with the smoke.

Making good barbeque is one of those deceptively simple disciplines. You can learn the basics in an afternoon and then spend the rest of your life honing and refining and making it your own. None of the ingredients in this recipe are groundbreaking by any stretch. I’m just taking proven concoctions and tweaking them a little to my tastes. On both the “paint” and the dry rub, I’ve added a “secret ingredient” to personalize things a bit.

The Sriracha in the paint adds a little extra heat and the powdered espresso in the dry rub adds a little depth and mingles nicely with the cocoa and chile powders. As soon as the baby back ribs finish thawing out, I’m going to give them the same treatment. If you’re in the neighborhood on Saturday and smell something good, you’ll know where it’s coming from.

“Paint” Sauce for Bar-be-qued Pork

1/4 cup Dijon Mustard

1/2 cup Apple Cider Vinegar

2 tablespoons Soy Sauce

1 teaspoon Sriracha Hot Sauce

Combine all ingredients and stir until uniformly mixed. Brush onto pork shoulder until covered.

Dry Rub for Bar-be-qued Pork

6 Tablespoons Spanish Paprika

2 Tablespoons Coarse Ground Pepper

2 Tablespoons Kosher Salt

2 Tablespoons Sugar

2 Tablespoons Cocoa Powder

1 Tablespoon Instant Espresso Powder

1 Tablespoon Chili Powder

1 Tablespoon Garlic Powder

1 Teaspoon Cayenne Powder

Combine all ingredients and stir until combined. Apply liberally to pork shoulder after “painting” with Paint Sauce.

When it comes to cooking equipment I tend not to be afflicted, as some are, with the need to try everything on the market. Unlike my father, who never met a gadget he doesn’t like, I tend to identify what works for me, use it until it falls apart, buy an identical model, and then repeat. So it was a bit out of character for me to immediately begin salivating at the sight of this stainless steel and white enameled, flamed beauty. I mean, who wouldn’t lust, just a bit, over such a gas powered wonder?

When my brother-in-law, Jimmy, was tasked by his boss to cobble something together to sling a few burgers and dogs at the company picnic and maybe smoke a couple of butts in local barbeque cookoffs, he took the job and ran with it. In addition to being one of my favorite people anywhere, Jimmy is no slouch himself in the kitchen. In fact, such is his mastery of all things culinary that I have only in the past couple of years begun to feel comfortable cooking for the wife’s family. So it came as little surprise to me, that even with a meager budget, he would come up with something like this.

With such amenities as two double smokers, two fryer burners, and an eight burner grill, generous work space, and brushed stainless steel storage drawers, you don’t see this sort of cooking capacity outside professional cooking competitions. Not too shabby considering the raw materials consisted mainly of a cargo trailer that was about to be discarded from the company fleet and an assortment of scrap metal.

I know you’re not supposed to covet other folk’s grills. I think that’s in the Bible somewhere, but after seeing the SuperGrill, my lowly Weber kettle grill just doesn’t seem to be enough. I wonder if I could borrow it?

I suppose there might be one or two of you regular readers out there who had begun to suspect that I had sent Sugar and Lard to live with a nice family in the country or wherever it is that blogs go to die. My apologies to anyone who visited in the past month or so only to be greeted by tumbleweeds and chirping crickets. In addition to my usual commitments that go with being (in no particular order) a husband, father, dutiful employee, blogscape tycoon, and all-around nice guy, I picked up another gig that has added somewhat to my workload.

Earlier this year, I mentioned that the Chattanooga Market, which was not scheduled to return for its seventh season, might just pull through after all. For you out-of-towners or locals who’ve had your heads in some unsavory place, the Chattanooga Market is an open air market that features local (mostly organic) produce, live music, art and handmade goods, and good stuff to eat and drink. Each Sunday from April to December, literally thousands of folks from all walks of life file through a converted foundry looking for the perfect tomato, fresh artisan bread, or just a good time. It’s not uncommon to see crunchy granola types, eggheaded intellectuals, overall wearing farmers, and just plain old folks rubbing elbows and whiling away a Sunday afternoon.

As it turns out, The Market not only returned for 2008, it seems to be healthier than ever. For my part, I’ll be working the market every other Sunday helping to make sure everything is ready when the crowds show up and putting everything back in its place once they leave. It amounts to a long and often strenuous day tempered by a lot of friendly people who are pretty passionate about what they do, with a bit of extra payday to boot.

So far, I’ve come home with an assortment of heirloom tomato plants, several varieties of pepper plants, a loaf of fresh bread, a spice blend that is part of tonight’s dinner, and this year’s mother’s day gifts. It’s a veritable one stop shopping experience.

We’ve had a rather cool spring, so the produce is a bit late coming in this year. I’ve seen lots of lettuce, kohlrabi, strawberries, and garden seedlings so far, but the real fresh produce explosion is still a week or two away.

Look for more Market news here and check out Chattanooga Market’s website or Facebook Page for more details.

Check out page 40 in this month’s Bon Appetit (where the heck is the little accent mark?) Magazine. At number 8 on their Hot List for Street Food is Chattanooga’s own Petunia’s Silver Jalapeno. It’s good to see local folk get a little recognition, and deservedly so.

If you visit Petunia’s and leave hungry, it’s your own fault. I recommend the Fish Taco, but you really can’t go wrong, so go pay them a visit and tell them I sent you. Here’s what I had to say about them a couple of years ago. Oh, how the time does fly.

  I may have mentioned before that I am an inveterate collector of recipes. I also collect invertebrate recipes, but that’s a different story. Anyway, the inherent problem with habitual recipe collection is what to do with all those recipes. I still don’t have a perfect answer, but I have made some progress. In addition to using a categorized accordion file, I also found a free downloadable recipe program that works reasonably well. Now if I can only find fifteen to twenty hours to key in all my favorites… Yes, I see that happening sometime soon.

  After about the fifteenth search for that Senegalese Peanut Stew recipe (to no avail,) I decided that something more must be done.  Then I remembered an old tome of my wife’s mouldering away in our bookshelf.  We still aren’t exactly sure whose this half filled store ledger was, but it dates back to the late 1800’s, and was later re-purposed into a combination recipe and scrapbook.  Flipping through the pages, one alternates between pie recipes, helpful household hints, and sage marital advice, albeit a bit out of step with the times.

  It occurred to me that I had a potential recipe book of my own in the form of a perfectly good, but slightly outdated Moleskine date book.  Even though it was obsolete by virtue of its 2007 vintage, I hadn’t been able to toss it, it was just too handsome and well made for the waste bin.  So I grabbed a pair of scissors and a kindergarten style glue stick and went to work.  I made quick work of the cutting and then mired down in the process of categorizing the whole mess.

  After an hour or two of snipping and pasting, I had a passable cookbook that bore a striking resemblance to George Costanza’s wallet. 

  I had initially divided the book into equally sized sections with plenty of empty space at the end of each category for future additions, but quickly realized that my recipe clipping didn’t quite fit into the allotted space.  That I had an abundance of pork recipes was no surprise, but other trends emerged.  I was surprised to see that salads greatly outnumbered beef and chicken recipes combined, and pizza was perhaps overrepresented compared to our normal cooking patterns.  By my calculations, I have about another four to six months of recipe clipping left before this volume is filled.  That means that by January of 2009, when my current datebook is retired, I will have a pretty good backlog of recipes and can start pasting again.  Best of all, I’ll never have to hunt for that Senegalese Peanut Stew recipe again.  I just have to remember that it’s in the 2007 cookbook.

My lettuce will surely benefit from the April showers we’ll be having all day today (if the weather man is to be believed.) After last summer’s extraordinary drought the rain is surely welcomed. It may put a bit of a damper on the baseball game we have on the schedule for this afternoon, though. As long as I can keep my hot dog and peanuts dry, I’ll be happy…

  Count me among the five or six foodies who haven’t yet seen King Corn, the documentary on the ubiquity of industrial corn products in the American diet.  If you’ve been under a rock like me, you can probably find it on your local PBS station on Tuesday night as part of their Independent Lens series.

  If you need something to snack on while you are learning more about the Military-Corndustrial Complex, can I suggest a little grilled corn?  We picked up a few ears at the Publix for the princely sum of 20 cents an ear.  I’m sure once you figure in the tax payer funded farm subsidies it’s more like $8.75 an ear, but what’s a little free trade among friends?

Hot Grilled Corn

Remove the outermost layer of husks from each ear of corn.  Peel back the remaining layers of husks just far enough to remove corn silk.  Remove silk and Rinse each ear, then cover the ears of corn with husk.  I like to tie the husks back into place with butchers twine.

In a large stock pot, dissolve 1/2 cup of salt and 1/2 cup of sugar into enough water to cover the cleaned ears of corn and soak for at least an hour.  You will probably need to weight the ears of corn down to keep them submerged.

Cook corn around the edges of a hot grill for 35-40 minutes until done.  Don’t place your corn directly over the hot part of the grill, lest the shucks ignite after only a few minutes over the flames.  Turn the ears occasionally, a little charring is not such a bad thing.

Serve with plenty of salt and butter.  I like to sprinkle a little of Lucious the Kings Barbeque Seasoning on mine.

  Confession time.  I have been known, perhaps once or twice, to pick up the castoffs one sees from time to time on the curb for collection.  Our fair city has a program called Trash Flash in which a call to city hall will dispatch a crew in something called a Knuckle-Boom truck to pick up bulky, discarded items for disposal.  I like to think my taste in roadside refuse is pretty stellar, so when I saw this Char-Griller on my morning commute last summer I didn’t even stop inspect.  I just tossed it into the back of the Jeep and gloated all the way to work.  My Weber grill (up in the right corner of the photo) works like a charm, but I’d been looking for something with a bit more capacity to smoke larger cuts of meat and the Char-Griller looked like the ticket.

   Of course there was a little rust to contend with and the wooden lid handle and front shelf were dodgy, but nothing I couldn’t handle.  The most serious aspect was that its previous owner apparently never cleaned out the ashes, and worse, never replaced the ailing lower grate which is meant to keep the charcoal out of contact with the bottom of the grill.  Even more galling, the lid must have been open a while and there’s nothing more corrosive to the bottom of a grill than wet charcoal ashes.  OK, there are probably more powerful corrosives, but nothing you’ll likely encounter in the course of making dinner.

  I was still optimistic until the garden hose came out and I began spraying out the caked on grease and ashes and a hole the size of a football appeared in the bottom of the grill.  I toyed with the idea of actually patching it with a sheet of thin steel from the home center but when I tallied up the cost of a sheet of steel and replacement grates, it just didn’t make sense. 

  In the course of cleaning out the garden shed I had a few castoffs of my own for collection so I drug the Char-Griller out to the street and added it to the pile.  It looked forlorn and out of place next to the worn out carpet, the broken patio umbrella, and the rusty metal table, another roadside find that had outlived my use for it.

  Earlier this evening I sat down at the computer, meaning at some point to visit the city’s website to request a pickup, when our two dogs just went nuts.  They were barking and scratching at the window, incredulous that someone in a pickup truck was stopped in the street, stealing their (i.e. my) stuff.  I thought the grill might attract some attention, but this fellow took the broken umbrella, the rusty table, and yes, even the worn out carpet.  I hope he can get some use out of it.

  Does anyone even remember Bruce Feirstein’s pithy early eighties best seller, Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche?  Never read it. I was 10 years old at the time and quiche had yet to infiltrate my normal diet of Beanie Weenies and fish sticks.  These days real men have large brains they can use to decide what real men want to eat. 

  On this particular occasion, the Real Man in Question (RMIQ) got a call from his wife informing him that she was desirous of quiche for dinner.  RMIQ agreed that quiche sounded like a fine idea.  In addition to being a great source of cheap protein (although egg prices, along with everything else lately are going up) a quiche is a good way to make use of the odds and ends that seem to accumulate in the fridge.  Odd bits of meat, veggies, cheeses that otherwise might languish in the ice box are prime targets for reutilization.  Though we most often see quiche on brunch menus, we like to roll it out on those week nights after a long day at work when we don’t want to devote much time to cooking but still want a square meal.

  Quiche for dinner also pretty much guarantees that there will be no shopping involved.  Frozen Deep Dish Pie Crust?  Check.  Half a Dozen Eggs?  Check.  Some other stuff to throw in?  Check.  Preheat your oven to 375 degrees and get chopping.

  I’ve found seven eggs to be the right number for a deep dish crust.  Beat them in a large bowl along with a little milk, salt, and pepper.  I usually grate a little nutmeg in there too. 

  Saute the veggies a bit before adding them, along with grated cheese and whatever meat you might have.  Cooking time?  Maybe 25-30 minutes.  Just jiggle the pie pan occasionally.  When the quiche doesn’t move around in the pan and is firm in the center, it is done.

  Our last three quiches were:

• Bacon, Onion, and Cheddar.
• Spinach, Mushrooms, Onion, and Swiss Cheese
• Onion, Red Pepper, Diced Ham, Baby Swiss, and Gruyere

  The main rule of thumb is, “what do I have on hand that I would like in a quiche?”  Stick to that and you can’t go wrong.

  This is actually a dish I made months ago and never got around to posting.  I think the “secret ingredient” is Irish enough that this could be  considered a St. Patrick’s Day recipe, so let’s pretend that I planned this hearty one pot meal especially for this occasion.

  My only regret is that I didn’t think of this last year so I could enjoy it throughout the late fall and winter months that I consider “Stew Season.”  Looks like spring is here to stay in these parts, so the oven will see less use by the day as we head toward the summer months when the thought of running the oven for 2 hours is pretty much out of the question.

    The Wife won’t go near lamb, so one lamb shank was all I needed.  If you’re feeding a crowd, figure on one shank per person.  I went with potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and garlic, but a carrot wouldn’t be hurt either.  This is truly a no fuss sort of affair, so throw in whatever you like.

  If you have a large dutch oven with a lid or some other similarly heavy vessel that can go from stove top to oven, I would recommend using that.  Here’s the game plan, and it’s a simple one:  Season the lamb shank with salt, pepper, and dried thyme and brown it in olive oil and remove it from the pot.  Saute the chopped veggies and a bit of tomato paste for a couple of minutes, add the lamb back to the pot and season with more salt, pepper, and thyme.  Pour in a pint of Guinness Stout, put a lid on your pot, and cook in the oven at 250 degrees for two hours. 

  When your kitchen timer goes “ding,”  remove the lamb shank and vegetables and place the pot on the stove and bring the remaining liquid to a rapid simmer.  While stirring continually, add several tablespoons of flour and cook until it thickens into a nice, thick gravy.

  This might be nature’s most perfect food.  It has all the nutrients man needs to survive:  meat, potatoes, and beer. It’s a one pot meal, and it makes its own gravy, too.  What more could you ask for?  Serve with a hunk of crusty bread and more Guinness and have a Happy St. Patrick’s Day!