Nice Chai, Guys

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SLO Chai Cream Ale

Our last run-in with a botanical infused beer wasn’t pretty, so it was with great skepticism and courage that we plucked this San Louis Obispo Chai Cream Ale off the shelf. One of us was on vacation up the Central Coast and it just seemed wrong not to sample the local goods. This brew comes from something called, quite directly, Central Coast Brewing. With the exception of the exceedingly mediocre brews made by Firestone, California’s Central Valley lacks standouts from anywhere south of Mendocino. So we crossed our fingers and took a sip. Truth be told, the stuff wasn’t half bad — maybe more like 10% bad. The chai absolutely rules; the spicy head on this beer is what all pumpkin-tinged gimmicky fall beers try to be. The mix of cinnamon, mace and chai are followed by a slight acrid bite, tangy pear or apple. It’s the taste of an incredible spiced cider. Unfortunately, it’s not a cider, it’s masquerading as a cream ale, but the watery mouthfeel and light viscosity are off-putting when you expect something frothier, richer. The bubbles taste like a soy latte where they should taste like a buttery capuchino. Still, it beats the pumpkin shit any day.

Dairy Pairy:
Cowgirl Creamery’s Red Hawk
Soundtrack: Cornershop’s Hand Cream for a Generation

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Primal Cream

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Oregon Blue

In mapping the human genome, scientists have yet to uncover why humans like smoked foods so damn much. Smoked almonds, barbecue sauce, bacon bits. It’s primordial. We like fire. This partly explains why whenever one of us makes a trip to Northern California we have to buy a hunk of Rogue Creamery’s Oregon Blue and bring it back to the clan. This light, white and only mildy veined blue is supposedly the first artisan blue cheese to be made on the West Coast. It’s also the only fucking cheese we know that gets smoked for 16 hours over Northwest-grown hazelnut shells. The process leads to an excessively soft but crumbly cheese that has less of a mold bite and more of a caramel lick, making it great for folding into hot dishes without destroying any delicate flavors; the funk is kept under wraps. Best of all, like all Rogue creamery products you can rest assured that your creamy craving is being met by sustainable, cow-friendly farming practices. It may not be the stankiest blue in town, but it’s the most bacon-like.
Grain: Rogue’s Russian Imperial Stout 2007
Grape: Cardinal Zin

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Cap’N Cork

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This post is the first in an on-going series we’ll be doing on some of our favorite beermongers in the L.A. area. These stores include everything from a 100-year-old mom and pop grocer to a high-end wine and spirit purveyor and even a diamond-in-the-rough 7-11. They service distant zip codes (that we plan on exploring by bicycle on our up-coming Great L.A. Beer Run 2007) but they all share a dedication to beer kulture.
Cap’n Cork has been a regular beer haunt of ours going on three years. They have a huge selection of beer ranging from the more than mundane to the rarely seen in L.A. When Alex was stupid drunk at the Moylans bar/brewery in Novato last summer, he demanded a talk with the manager who could tell him when the Hopsickle would be back in L.A. They had no idea that anyone was selling it so far south. We had discovered it at Cap’n Cork for a ridiculously cheap $4.99.
There are two walls of reachin refrigerators in this edifice of hooch. Not a single beer is uncooled, which is not the norm for stores with this many beers. The selection ranges from domestic favorites like Moylans, Stone and Avery, to immaculate Belgians like Brasserie De Rocs and Trappists Rochforts. You will find something you like here (we can’t leave without at least four bombers in tow).
While this place boasts a great number of brews that we love, they are not without flaw. All the glory of the aforementioned array of fridges is contained in three of about twelve cabinets. The rest are filled with industry regulars like Corona and Tecate, which any liquor store is obligated to carry. What’s disappointing is the amount of space dedicated to really boring English, German, and American Microbrews. None of these beers suck, they just aren’t very noteworthy, and it rarely seems like they move from their shelves. If this place revitalized their offering and sold individual 12 oz. bottles? We’d have to shop here with chaperones.
Staff: Awesome. Mike (pictured above) isn’t the beer geek that he could be, but he’s always super nice and when you buy something he thinks rules (Rogue Imperial IPA) he’ll let you know.
Refrigeration: Yes. Everything.
Split Six Packs: Yes, but only for small Belgians.
Belgians: Good mix of American styles and old world bombers.
Microbrews: Small selection for a place this size, but all the heavy hitters are here.
Special Powers: All the Alesmiths, all the time. Hopsickle: when available. Munchies.
Achilles’ Heel: Too much space dedicated to uninteresting beer. This place would be unparalleled if they redesigned their stocking practices.
Location: Here.

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De-High Shrooms

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Our first kitchen mentor, a bear of a man named Joe Parks who instructed us in the college mess hall, used to describe any sub par ingredient from the freezer saying ‘Not bad… for a frozen product.” It’s a mantra we’ll always remember. Consequently, this site has possibly never championed a frozen, dried, or freeze-dried product. It’s fresh or nothing.
So consider this a milestone of sorts when we say that we give some fat-ass props to a particular Trader Joe’s product that keeps popping up in our recent reppiez: Dried Wild Mushrooms ($1.99). This package is a rough mix of forest shrooms: porcinis, oyster, shitakes and weird seaweed-like floppy ones. Meaning this mix is probably not appropriate to sub for real mushies (except in a quick fix) but it works wonders in other ways. Reviving these guys from their dried-out state is simple:
1. Bring 2 cups of water to boil. Empty packet into a large bowl, add a pinch of sea salt and top mushrooms with hot water.
2. Place a lid, or plate, on top of the bowl and let sit for 15 minutes.
3. Strain over another bowl to separate shrooms from water. Tear mushrooms into big chunks or duce super fine, depending on use.
What you have now is both revived wild mushrooms that, while nowhere near as good as fresh, are pretty good for meals where mushrooms are secondary and you also have a killer mushroom broth to use for rice, noodles, soups, vegetables or even other fresh mushrooms! And unless you live in Vancouver B.C., you’re not going to find a cheaper patch of wild shrooms short of picking them yourself. Not bad for a dehydrated product, huh.

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Shredded Love

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In Creole cuisine, Remoulade is the pride of the Po’Boy: a veritable catch-all sauce of ketchup, mayo, mustard, Louisiana Mirepoix, and spices. In France, the sauce is a bit more refined, and its classic accompaniment is celery root. The basic formula for a remoulade in both the motherland and southland milieu is: mayo, something pickled, herbs, and spices. Our recipe is a vegan take on the French version and we used it as a platform for a classic bistro salad of celeriac. Not familiar with this brute of a root? Don’t be surprised when you go from grocer to grocer praying you can avoid a run to Whole Foods for these glorious dirt bombs. You will fall in love with this dish.
Alex’s Boss Nicole used to eat a similar treat as a child in the Loire Valley. When her Père whipped up a batch he’d let it sit for a day before serving. If you’ve got the time and savoir faire you should do the same and skip the blanching of the root for a more authentic version.

Vegan Celery Root Remoulade

1 large celeriac (about 2 lbs)
3/4 cup vegan mayonnaise
2 minced shallots
1 tbs. diced tarragon
1 tbs. diced parsley
2 tbs. chopped capers
1 tbs. lemon juice
1 tbs. Dijon mustard or prepared horseradish
1 tsp. sea salt
1 tbs. freshly ground black pepper
1 tbs. diced chives
Set a large pot of water to boil. With a pairing knife skin the root completely. Depending on the equipment you’ve got you have two options: mandolin or cheese grater. If you have a mandolin, slice the root lengthwise into thin sheets, and then slice into thin matchsticks. No mando? Just shred the root on the larges eyelet set of a cheese grater. Now blanch the shredded or sliced celeriac very quickly: throw it in the water, count to ten whilst stirring and then remove. Rinse under cold water until cool and dry with towels of your choice.
Combine every other ingredient in a mixing bowl and whisk together. Toss the celeriac with the remoulade sauce and garnish with freshly ground black pepper, and chives. Serve on top of lightly cooked asparagus or your favorite veggie burger.
Beverage: Foret Organic Ale
Soundtrack: Stereolab’s “Dots and Loops”

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“Onion Rings”

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Leeks aren’t onions, but they’re in the onion family. Their tough-ass stocks are great for braising. After playing with leek rings, we’ve decided they’re great for frying too. Usually when we cook with much of the green part (further up the stock) we opt for methods that will help wilt it, here we tried to use most of the leek to get a variety of ring shapes.
The airy openness of such tall rings is awesome; it leaves more room for the crumbs and batter to play, and makes for large bites without risking that hot onion will shoot out of its fried exterior.
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Before we declare this lord of the rings, we’ve heard tell that you can make an excellent baked onion ring using Kettle Chips. After taste-testing the shit out of their Island Jerk, the idea of Jamaican rings is lush with promise. Caribbean calamari, using thinner cuts of leek, sounds pretty good too.

Leek Rings

3 leeks
1 cup tempura batter
12 oz. India Pale Ale
1 cup panko bredcrumbs
2 cups frying oil
1. Cut your leeks into 5 or 6-inch lengths, discarding the green tips and leaving only area that will produce enclosed rings. Chop the tube into 1-inch pieces. Pull apart the layers, saving the innermost, and very small, rings for use in sauces or stock. Save the outmost rings. (If possible, try to leave rings that are 2 layers stuck together for extra crunch.)
2. Combine batter with as much beer as necessary to achieve goopy pancake batter feel.
3. Batter and fry.
4. Blot extra oil. Serve rings with dipping sauces: Harissa ketchup, horseradish veganaise and/or BBQ sauce.

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Getting Lucky

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Lagunitas Lucky 13

Slipping this beer into a pint glass sounded a lot like two-inch fingernails — painted precisely a deep crimson red — clicking on a car door. It felt like wind and someone nibbling our ears. Half a bottle got us buzzed like we can only imagine you get when removing miniscule black underwear from a girl with hoop earrings and a femme pompadour. In a word: lucky. We wonder if that’s what the people at Lagunitas were shooting for with this, their 13th anniversary copper brew. The word “lucky” seems fitting for another reason. Because even though the brewery is often hailed as a No-Cal up-and-comer, Lagunitas remains a hit-and-miss brand. We love some of their beers (Maximus, Number 9) can’t drink others (Cappuccino Stout, Brown Shugga). This high-octane amber is a step above — or a stroke of luck — but either way it embodies what the company does well. A wispy head gives way to a Labrador red liquid. It is both exceptionally hoppy and sweetly bitter at first taste, before giving way to an almost metallic burnt caramel. Being a middle-of-your-mouth kind of beer the tastes come in waves: a tease and a door slammed in your face. The last note of every sip, however, is so fucking sweet.

Dairy Pairy:
Alsatian Munster
Soundtrack: Sonic Youth’s Goo

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McCheeses

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The last of our posts about leprecon days long gone concerns the culinary treats made by Irelands finest livestock: cheeses. Most people’s minds stop at cheddar when thinking about any cheese from the U.K. and Ireland. Then again most people think the 600 different cheeses from France taste like Brie…
These two gems came from the glorious Anglo cheese conglomerate Neal’s Yard Dairy by way of Silver Lake. Neal’s Yard is a family run business that’s been making and selling the best English, Irish and Welsh cheese sine 1979. In the past ten years their influence on American cheese stores has been heavy. If you are every in a cheese monger’s hovel and you see something with a Neal’s Yard label, you should probably buy it. If its got some weird Celtic name it’ll probably be a little intense, but in a Nieztchean “it builds character/buck up” way. If you hunt down any of the cheddars available through Neal’s Yard, especially Montgomery’s or Greene’s, well lets just say you’ll tell Tillamook to go fuck themselves.

Gubbeen

Gubbeen was one of those Zarathustras that will forever leave a mark on our palate’s memory. It’s a washed rind cheese, meaning that after its been formed into a wheel it gets dunked in brine and salt over and over again, so it has a discernable stank to it. A relatively young cheese at 2-3 weeks affinage, it has a velvety semi firm pate, and a meaty flavor that packs a serious secondary bite. Starts off gamey ends like a Protestant shepherd’s rubber thigh high in your face: a slight sting, a little sour, but strangely invigorating.
Grain: La Chouffe “IPA”
Grape: Laboure Roi Pinot Noir (2005)

Crozier Blue

One of two prominent blues from Ireland, Crozier is the only sheeps milk blue made in Ireland, or the surrounding U.K. for that matter. It is surprisingly sweet and mild. If you’re a beginner with blue cheese this will be totally doable, and if you’re a lover of brutal blue bite, this one might leave you alone in a cranberry bog. However, there are very nice notes of fresh cream, nuts, and hay in the finish, which emphasizes that this cheese is made by a very small herd of sheep on a very small farm.
Grain: Sierra Nevada Bigfoot
Grape: Meyer’s Family Port

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Car Bomb Cakes

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Some recipes take longer than others; this one lingered so long we started referring to it as “the beast.” The goal was to deconstruct the Irish car bomb — that lovably irresponsible drink special that says “I throw caution to the wind like a Mick throws a Molotov cocktail in a bobby’s face — and make it food. The gimmick was simple: take the three booze components of an Irish car bomb (whiskey, Guinness and Bailey’s Irish cream) and put them all on one plate.
Our first attempt, brazen and cocky as it was, turned out god awful. We made a dessert grilled cheese sandwich of Irish aged cheddar topped with whiskey onion jam, Bailey’s whipped Mascarpone cheese and Guinness reduction syrup. It was confusing and bitter and it rivaled our other top flop: the Double Bastard French onion soup.
But last weekend we gathered our confidence and tried again. We’re proud to bring you our Irish Car Bomb Cakes: Guinness flapjacks served with a shot glass of Bailey’s whipped cream and whisky maple syrup.

Whiskey Syrup

4 shots bourbon whiskey
2 cups Grade B maple syrup
1. In a small saucepan, bring the whiskey to high heat and let it reduce for about 2 minutes, then add maple syrup, stir and continue to heat until bubbly. Set aside.

Bailey’s Whipped Cream

1 pint heavy whipping cream
4 oz. Bailey’s Irish cream
1. In a large mixing bowl, add Bailey’s slowly to cream and whip the shit out of them with a whisk for 10-15 minutes or until thoroughly airy.

Guinness Flapjacks

2 envelopes dry yeast
2 cups flour
1/2 cup, plus 1 tsp white sugar
1.5 teaspoon baking powder
1 tsp. salt
2 cups Guinness, room temp.
3 Tbs. warm vegan butter
1. Activate the yeast by mixing 1/8 cup warm water, a splash of beer, and one Tsp. of sugar in a small bowl. Stir, cover, and set aside for ten minutes.
2. Combine all dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Gently whisk in the Guinness and vegan butter.
3. Check your yeast. If it looks like a blob out of control, whisk it into the batter. Let the batter sit for ten minutes. Then heat a greased skillet and drop batter in 5-inch diameter portions. Flip once bubbles appear or side is dark brown, about 2-3 minutes.
Beverage: Harp
Soundtrack: The Pogues’ Peace and Love

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St. Fatty’s Day

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Though we had high hopes for this year’s St. Patrick’s Day — there were rumors of $2 Jameson shots at a bar downtown that opened at 6 a.m. and allowed entrance only to those dressed as leprechauns — we played it safe with brunch.
Naturally the morning started with two arthurs, a fridge of bevies and fierce plans to get full. First on the menu was a mean barley and white potato hash made with four leafy herbs from our garden. We sopped up the hearty mash with smoky red baked beans, which put to shame the gooey brown shite that the Brits sling, and smoked tomatoes and crispy bacon.
For afters we made a stout stack of Guinness flaps and topped them with hand-whipped Irish Cream and whisky syrup and proceeded to make arseways of our selves by tasting 3 different combinations of black and tans. Those recipes are forthcoming throughout the week. In the meantime, here are the brunch recipes. Be dog wide with these ones droogies.

Four-leaf Clover Hash Browns

10 white potatoes, cleaned
1 cup barley, cooked
1/4 cup fresh thyme
1/4 cup fresh oregano
1/4 cup fresh rosemary
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley
4 cloves garlic
1/2 cup vegan butter
salt and pepper
1. First microwave or boil your potatoes until they’re about half done (about 3 minutes either way) and slice them in half. Once potatoes are cool enough grate them finely. Set aside.
2. In a large skillet, combine all four fresh herbs with the vegan butter, leaving a large pinch of each kind that you’ll add fresh toward the end. Cook until aromatic, about 3 minutes. Then add the half-cooked hash browns and one cup of cooked barley.
3. Stir thoroughly and cook for 20-30 minutes or until hash is fully cooked. (If needed, throw mixture in a non-stick pan for the duration of cooking as potatoes tend to stick). Before serving, season and toss with the remaining fresh green herbs.

Lucky Baked Beans

4 cloves garlic
4 green onions, chopped
2 cans baked beans
1 can roasted whole tomatoes
1 Tbs. ground pepper
1. We started with run-of-the-mill baked beans in a brown sauce (make sure they’re meatless) and doctored them up from there. In a small sauce pan, combine garlic and green onions in just enough vegan butter to cover the bottom of the pan. Let cook 5 minutes.
2. Then open the cans of beans and tomatoes and add them to the pan. Season the pot and let cook on medium heat for about 30 minutes. Serve

Smoked Tomato with crispy bacon

4 fake bacon strips
4 tomatoes
2 Tbs. smoked salt
1. Quarter the tomatoes and season the fleshy, seed side with smoked pepper.
2. Bring a pan to high heat with just a touch of olive oil. Cook tomatoes on their fleshy sides for about 5 minutes or until starting to black in places. Add more oil and fry bacon slices.

Beverage:
Anderson Valley Oatmeal Stout
Soundtrack: The Fall Anthology Disc 3

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