Political Rigamortis & Super Simple Stuffed Shrooms

“Instead of noblemen, let us have noble villages of men.”
― Henry David Thoreau

February 9^th, 2012

Song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mKamV46ovA

It’s overcast here in Marco Island perhaps an ominous prediction of hurricane winds to come, it snowed in Rome, another earthquake ruptured in the Philippines . . . Mother Nature is still in control despite our politicians, scientists, philanthropists, archaeologists, economists . . . despite all of us and our preoccupied lives of believing that we in fact built a sound ship, man the helm & perfectly capable of navigating through any storm.  It’s the water that’s keeping us afloat and can just as quickly turn us over to fend for ourselves without any marvel of metal, or inflatable “life preserving” mechanism to save our ass.  The Ocean listens to her own voice; it is we that should heed her warnings.

This conversation comes to mind with all of the politics swirling around the upcoming GOP election, amongst the facebook revolving posts regarding the issue of gay marriage and even my own frustrations in debate with my mother . .(shaking my head) . . . my own mother who voted in that despicable piece of shit Governor Walker and to whom looks to Romney in her wishes to replace Obama.  This stirred more than spit & vinegar in me  . . . how can anyone not see that this President is the first of his kind in a long, long time.  Returning to an age when patriotism meant more than speaking “in God we Trust” but unity amongst a people.  This man has purpose & willingness to sacrifice his own personal interests.  His only care to get re-elected is relevant to his need for more time to carry out a mission of change; one that has been hampered by inheriting a flailing economy & an opposing political party with f’ked up priorities.  I sincerely believe this man cares not about power or privilege – he is an honest man to himself, his family & his colleagues . . . that means more to me than any discussion on income taxes, gay marriage or demoralizing filibusters compliments of the Republican party.  Why do we need parties at all anyways???  There is so much cross over it seems silly, pointlessly and contradictory to having any benefit to the people or substantial progression.  

We baby our system, our people & our politicians, our corporations & lobbyists . . . an assassination (or two) would shake up the greedy pockets and lost intentions.  The corrupt need be held accountable for their actions, but slipping a noose around some congressman’s neck isn’t very Buddhist like of me.   I should chant with compassion for these beguiled government officials to succumb to righteousness; remembering their causes and be reborn to the roots of change.   Until something better presents itself, I am proud to call Barack Obama our president and humbly admit that my Mother is but one of many souls consorting with the crimelords:  Gingrich, Romney & Santorum (Ron Paul . . I’ll let be for the moment).

Enough with the political punch.  It’s sip is all too delusional and the hangover hardly worth the wasted words.  Food on the other hand is very much a topic of interest and reward.  It’s primal simplicity can be the epicenter of comfort . . take my friend Joe at Cedar-Sinai for example.  He bumped up his meal plan to the galloping gourmet for a mere $250.00 per day and . . . well, it seems to be well worth the extra expense.  The alternative routine was something similar to the cafeteria muck served in elementary school – and just about as many little milk cartons to boot!  That next meal is perhaps the most rewarding bite of his bed-bound day . . I can't say I'm too far off from that myself.

Mom and I visited the Marcos Island farmers market today and picked up some gorgeous fresh shrimp, Joes stone crab claws, fennel bulb, decadently sweet carambola (ie: starfruit), eggplant, onions, ginger & a variety of peppers.  Don’t quite know what I’m going to make yet, but I think it’s time for a martini, 4 ibuprofuren and apply myself here as chef.  Till tomorrow, I give you another Valentines Day menu option that can be tweaked to your own liking.  The cream cheese guarantees you won't have excess moisture spilling out of the shrooms so be sure to fold in some favorite item(s).

With Culinary Blessings,

                   Chef Scotty

Baby Bellas Recipe

These little lovers are delicious and full proof,  but feel free to adlib with pinenuts, tarragon, olives, fresno chile or mix in some baba ghanoush?  How about some spicy Italian sausage, some fresh fennel, fresh crabmeat . . pour your love into it!

Ingredients

• 12 whole fresh mushrooms
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic (roasted garlic preferred)
• 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, Pedano Grano or Gruyere
• ¼ cup drained artichoke hearts, minced
• ¼ cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
• Add fresh basil, oregano, marjoram and/or thyme

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray. Clean mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Carefully break off stems. Chop stems extremely fine, discarding tough end of stems.
2. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and chopped mushroom stems to the skillet. Fry until any moisture has disappeared, taking care not to burn garlic. Set aside to cool.
3. When garlic and mushroom mixture is no longer hot, stir in cream cheese, artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, black pepper, onion powder and cayenne pepper. Mixture should be very thick. Using a little spoon, fill each mushroom cap with a generous amount of stuffing. Arrange the mushroom caps on prepared cookie sheet.
4. Bake for 20 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the mushrooms are piping hot and liquid starts to form under caps.

My Pretty Kitty, Layers of Friendship & Lasagna

“A Friend is one who incessantly pays us the compliment of expecting from us all the virtues, and who can appreciate them in us.”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 24^th, 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bruLafuiu80&feature=related 

My lungs are still speaking in tongues of mucus but in general, I feel alive . . which is to say that yesterday, I felt somewhat dead.  The sun is shining brightly, burning away the excess moisture that has accumulated over these past few days of rain and although I didn’t make it to the gym this morning – I do believe I have the courage to make an afternoon run.

Sheliqua Veroquat (aka: Shelley, Kitty, Mittens, Lovebug) is a good friend.  A new friend in the sense that I’ve only known her for a Quaker’s quilt of time (a little over a year), but oh how we’ve naturally and expeditiously grown inward and outward over that time period.  After all, it was she alone that took it upon herself to make certain my 35^th birthday did not go uncelebrated as we clambered westward in her aging, forest green Subaru; a fantastic road trip to the Scotch pine forests of Idyllwild.  Numerous bottles of champagne were drunk without care or remorse, gourmet meals forged from way over-priced firewood and a feeble attempt to teach my beloved Veroquat the game of Uker – blissfully consumed as a pair of parakeets we were! There are only so many friends in this world that there is an equal exchange without pretension, assumption or conflicted emotion.  Sheliqua & Scotty are fortunate to possess such an exotic  friendship.  I’m very proud of my little Washington State transplant, a recent divorcee that scrounging to make ends meet as she paves her way through a Microbiology career in earnest attempt to create something new for herself.  We both are hell bent on a better life, survivors of transformation and intent on "cashing in" on our karma – laughter before tears, we will conquer all obstacles . . . this is a friendship that will withstand the sands of time.

What makes a good friend?  When pondering this question I am drawn immediately to the words: selfless, gratitude, respect, trust, patience, generosity, kindness . . .  I have been blessed with so many beautiful people in my life and the most recent trials have certainly exposed those true to their nature, those that would have me as penniless before constituent of fortune, those who would answer that call when nobody else could even hear the ringer, those that cherish me just as much for my weaknesses as my strengths.  Integrity!  That’s one that I had forgotten to mention!  Oh, boy how integrity plays such a part of true friendship for if one is not solidly founded in morals & ethics than how else are they to equally contribute to another?

My "revised" team is one of stability, sound reason and logic – Dad would be proud.  My family is my structurally uplifting spine as my friends are my biceps, my hamstrings, my tendons that pull and push me through the day to day transactions of living.  I alone own my heart and while it still aches a bit of lost love . . . it has enough responsibility in keeping the rest of things moving along, pumping the oxygenated blood  throughout my body, sustaining the most basic of purposes, preoccupied with so many involuntary tasks that the emotional desires fall short of any immediate necessity.  Hell, I’ve got to get rid of this mucus before investing such stock in the concept of true love again - tell then, I'm more than gratified with my beloved family & friends.

A recipe for friendship could entail some classic comfort cuisine, it could take you back to collegiate years of gourmet deposed ramen noodles, it could recollect a moment of poptarts & champagne on a sunrise that arrived a day early . . or was it that we just hadn’t made it to bed yet?  I give you lasagna which certainly qualifies as the piece de resistance of layered love.  Make it the day before & serve up with some garlic cheese bread and Caesar salad – a simple meal for you & those closest to your heart.

With Culinary Blessings,

                   Chef Scotty, Richard the III, Cletus to some,  Fool to others & Friend . . well they know!

Basic Lasagna Template

There’s no point in me adding my own secret twists here as Lasagna is just one of those things that you follow your own intuition.  Much like friendship, it is what you put into it and even better with a good bottle of red vino.

Ingredients

• 1 pound sweet Italian sausage
• 3/4 pound lean ground beef
• 1/2 cup minced onion
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
• 2 (6 ounce) cans tomato paste
• 2 (6.5 ounce) cans canned tomato sauce
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 1 1/2 tablespoons dried basil leaves (or ¼ C. fresh basil)
• 1 tablespoon fennel seeds
• 2 tablespoons Italian seasoning
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 12 lasagna noodles
• 16 ounces ricotta cheese
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 pound mozzarella cheese, sliced
• 3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Directions

1. Over medium heat cook sausage, ground beef, onion, and garlic over medium heat until well browned. Stir in crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato sauce, and water. Season with sugar, basil, fennel seeds, Italian seasoning, 1 tablespoon salt, pepper, and 2 tablespoons parsley. Simmer, covered, for about 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally.
2. Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles in boiling water for 8 to 10 minutes. Drain noodles, and rinse with cold water. In a mixing bowl, combine ricotta cheese with egg, remaining parsley, and 1/2 teaspoon salt.
3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
4. To assemble, spread 1 1/2 cups of meat sauce in the bottom of a 9x13 inch baking dish. Arrange 6 noodles lengthwise over meat sauce. Spread with one half of the ricotta cheese mixture. Top with a third of mozzarella cheese slices. Spoon 1 1/2 cups meat sauce over mozzarella, and sprinkle with 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese. Repeat layers, and top with remaining mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. Cover with foil: to prevent sticking, either spray foil with cooking spray, or make sure the foil does not touch the cheese.
5. Bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes. Remove foil, and bake an additional 25 minutes. Cool for 15 minutes before serving.

It's on the Books! Penny for your Worries, Worshorseshire Sauce

“I do believe in simplicity. It is astonishing as well as sad, how many trivial affairs even the wisest thinks he must attend to in a day; how singular an affair he thinks he must omit. When the mathematician would solve a difficult problem, he first frees the equation of all incumbrances, and reduces it to its simplest terms. So simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run. ”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 15^th,  2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dlr90NLDp-0

It’s still Friday the 13^th but a lot of some nothing has happened – but it’s good stuff.  The judge has set a trial date, which means . . . . there is an end to the madness.  My mind is now reprieved of the constant weight of this overshadowing debacle – or so I shall like to think as the Gregorian Chant settles those background noises with stern secular clarity; the orators channeling angelic influence . . . or simply a monk & num medley of a chorus reciting Latin?   

Freedom comes in many forms but it is more a state of mind in our American society than any environmental precedence (ie: tyranny in 3^rd world countries).  I guess I could highlight the numerous “viral marketing” articles regarding the freedom of homosexuality with the GOP going on but really, I don’t see it as that big of an issue.  Maybe that makes me a moron amongst my people but I see our global warming and destruction of the planet as the number one cause to action.  After all, depleting our resources & raping Mother Nature is ultimately nothing more than tearing down the foundation of earth, walls of trees, the foliage of furniture coverings . . . and with no home – it really doesn’t matter what creed, color, sexual orientation you’re sporting – we’ll all be dead!  So long as we’re on this topic, I’ve always believed that this “gay gene” (whether habitat or humanity) is nothing more than a reversed state of natural selection.  In case you don’t remember that term from Biology 101:

NATURAL SELECTION:  the process by which forms of life having traits that better enable them to adapt to specific environmental pressures, as predators, changes in climate, or competition for food or mates, will tend to survive and reproduce in greater numbers than others of their kind, thus ensuring the perpetuation of those favorable traits in succeeding generations.

Compare survival of the fittest.

Basically the theory in my mind:  if we don’t breed our numbers of infestation will go down thus forth potentially lessening our individual consumption of the planets resources.  If that fails, Mama Tierra will likely unleash a virus that doesn’t come by choice (ie: AIDS), more like the bubonic plague!  All of this, on the edge of the Mayan 2012 prediction and I have to wait to get my dividends out of my businesses.  -Sigh-  I have to trust in the universes schedule and align myself with a sense of purpose.  Let go of this provocative journey Scotty!  Ditch the 1,283 suitcases of weighted baggage, bolt from the airport, and find yourself a lookout above common ground to etch out some semblance of a plan.  Disoriented Putz would be a fair assessment of me in my most recent isocracie – I have seemingly misplaced the “S T”  in “S T A B I L I T Y”

Adding on to the previous entries a wee bit late -  it’s now Sunday & I do believe that I just certified my prior assumptions in naming myself as an idiot.  Excuses are really not in repertoire of rationalizing ideas, henceforth I will simply do as I always do . . . forgive myself, let an occasional laugh waft through my surrounding silence in honor of my foolishness and rest up – this is a process well beyond allocating “sleepy-time” and essentially involves multiple applications of recalibrating my mind, balancing out my body & stabilizing the many voices within that compose the essence of my soul.

At least my primary goal is beyond apparent – money, dividends, greenbacks, collateral, funds, capital, coin, mullah . . . my brokenness has reached that most humbling point when one must assess their coinage & either convert to bills (albeit one of those fancy machines at the grocery store) or shucking off those last layers of pride and with an assortment of copper pennies, nickels, dimes and even a few of those now cherished quarters and marching (on foot no less) to the convenience store in pursuit of the life’s only true necessity – cigarettes.  Regrettably, this is not the first time in my adult life that I have sunken to such a state of pathetic worth.  I count at least 5 times in the last ten years that I’ve had to succumb to currency as the primary means of payment; this most embarrassing disposition is at it’s pinnacle of shame when one has no alternative but to pull-over to a gas station (riding on fumes), and finagle $1.33 out of the interior car crevices . . and then throw down that change in front of a line of customers (hope that you at least drive a shitty vehicle & are still sporting your pj’s).  Obviously, the lesson here is more simple than not . . . I’ve been here before, humbled to the righteous core and yet I survived, thus forth one would presume that this too – I shall survive.

With Culinary Blessings,

               Chef Scotty

Chef Scotty’s “Worshorseshire” Sauce:

An experiment in it’s own right – Worcestershire sauce is a staple in our Western World (not an easy to task to accomplish with such a difficult name).  My version is bumped up a wee bit but still relevant to the original recipe.

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 6 cups coarsely chopped onions
• 4 serranos, with stems and seeds, chopped
• 2 tablespoons minced garlic
• 2 tablespoons freshly ground pepper
• 4 (2-ounce) cans anchovy fillets (or an 8-ounce can), drained of oil
• 1/2 teaspoon allspice berry
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 whole, medium lemons, skin and pith removed
• 4 cups dark corn syrup
• 2 cups 100 percent Pure Cane Syrup
• 2 quarts distilled organic apple cider vinegar
• 4 cups water
• 3/4 pound fresh horseradish, peeled and grated
• 3 pint-sized canning jars

Combine the oil, onions and jalapenos in a large stockpot over high heat. Cook, stirring, until slightly soft, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the garlic, pepper, anchovy fillets, cloves, salt, lemons, corn syrup, cane syrup, vinegar, water and horseradish and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the mixture barely coats a wooden spoon, about 6 hours. Strain into a clean container.

Worcestershire Sauce may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 1 month, or processed as directed below and kept for up to 1 year.

Sterilize 3 pint-sized jars and their metal lids according to the manufacturer's instructions. Spoon the hot mixture into the jars, filling to within 1/2-inch of the rim. With a clean, damp towel, wipe the rims and fit with a hot lid. Tightly screw on the metal ring. Place, without touching, on a rack in a large, deep canning kettle or stockpot of rapidly boiling water; water should cover the jars by 1-inch. Boil and process for 15 minutes. Using tongs, remove the jars, place on a towel and let cool completely before storing. Test the seals and tighten the rings as needed. Store in a cool, dark place for at least 2 weeks before using. After opening, store jars in the refrigerator.

Eleven lords a leaping, Numb, Fish-n-Chips Recipe

“I have heard of a man lost in the woods and dying of famine and exhaustion at the foot of a tree, whose loneliness was relieved by the grotesque visions with which, owing to bodily weakness, his diseased imagination surrounded him, and which he believed to be real. So also, owing to bodily and mental health and strength, we may be continually cheered by a like but more normal and natural society, and come to know that we are never alone.”
― Henry David Thoreau

December 5^th, 2012

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_-qRcHAhzk

Those crusty eyelids slid open like rusted over garage doors, shifting the Earth beneath my burdened body I made my way for the water lapping at the edge of my desires to cast free from this stalagmite ridden enclave.  What a fool to have forgotten I am a water dragon!  The buoyancy of the Mother’s tears will carry the most pressing weight until I have at last gained momentum; the sunset awaits my baptism . . . free at last, I’ll take flight at the crest of an amber horizon.

This morning, I have risen from the depths of my own imprisonment, the  chamber of secrets no longer gripping my mind with doubt and trepidation.  Maybe it was the 16oz bloodied ribeye that I ravenously devoured last night, maybe it was the correct prescription of unlimited sleep . . who knows – all I know is that I am wide awake and grateful to have shredded my pity like the remaining scraps of grizzle on my dinner plate last night.

Where to begin?  How long have I been gone?  A list, best to start with a definitive list so as not to become overwhelmed by the surmountable tasks needing my most adamant attention.   And coffee, more coffee . . . a jumpstart is best accompanied by some Tanzanian dark roast and tightly fitting sneakers; amazing how the shoes you strap on can either undermine your evening intentions or escalate your matching pin-striped demeanor.  The time is 10:19am, if I strategize and work diligently I can finish this Thursday with some sort of redeeming sensation of accomplishment.

Are any of my recent nocturnal escapades worthy of sharing in detail?  If they were, they would likely be at the forefront of my thoughts and pour out onto this journal – Numb.  That is what I leave you to consider, the very state of my existence these past few days.

 Definition of NUMB

1: devoid of sensation especially as a result of cold or anesthesia

2: devoid of emotion : indifferent

Mr. Wilson’s annual “12^th day Party” or spinoff of his birthday celebration (which actually takes place on the 2^nd of January every year) will be taking place this Saturday and it requires the creation of some culinary nibbles . . . good thing somebody woke out of his coma (even the great prophet Moses couldn’t fix Mr. Wilson’s feeble attempts at prodding food into some entitlement as an edible meal)  A brief grocery list will be devised but until then I’m thinking fish-n-chips as I have a case of potatoes & a boatload of halibut scraps in the freezer.   

Fish-n-Chips Recipe

Ingredients

For the fries:

• 1 gallon safflower oil
• 4 large Russet potatoes
• Kosher salt

For the batter:

• 2 cups flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• Dash Old Bay Seasoning
• 1 bottle brown beer, cold I like to use a smoked porter
• 1 1/2 pounds firm-fleshed whitefish (tilapia, pollock, cod), cut into 1-ounce strips
• Cornstarch, for dredging

Directions

Heat oven to 200 degrees F.

Heat the safflower oil in a 5-quart Dutch oven over high heat until it reaches 320 degrees.
Using a V-slicer with a wide blade, slice the potatoes with the skin on. Place in a large bowl with cold water.
In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, cayenne pepper, and Old Bay seasoning. Whisk in the beer until the batter is completely smooth and free of any lumps. Refrigerate for 15 minutes. Note: The batter can be made up to 1 hour ahead of time.
Drain potatoes thoroughly, removing any excess water. When oil reaches 320 degrees, submerge the potatoes in the oil. Working in small batches, fry for 2 to 3 minutes until they are pale and floppy. Remove from oil, drain, and cool to room temperature.
Increase the temperature of the oil to 375 degrees. Re-immerse fries and cook until crisp and golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes. Remove and drain on roasting rack. Season with kosher salt while hot and hold in the oven.
Allow oil to return to 350 degrees. Lightly dredge fish strips in cornstarch. Working in small batches, dip the fish into batter and immerse into hot oil. When the batter is set, turn the pieces of fish over and cook until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Drain the fish on the roasting rack. Serve with malt vinegar.

A Wham, Bam Whopper Fan, I've got the Moves, A Sonnet of Shrimp Ceviche

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” -Thoreau

December 27th, 2011

I ate McDonalds. Please forgive me as my quench to forgive my hangover exceeded the chef code of culinary principles & anti fast-food ethics. The gratification to my palette was less than satisfactory, but at least the fermented agave elixir lining my stomach was now fortified with good old’ fashioned Mickey-D’s saturated fats & patented triglycerides. I was always a chicken nugget with barbecue sauce kind of kid, but it wasn’t too often that we got to visit the clown’s joint – Dad wouldn’t have it, “No, we’re not eating that crap! Burger King is the only one that grills their burgers.” And so we’d forego the Big Mack for a Whopper all the time wishing it was Mom who at the wheel.

A long ass night with one damn long drive, I touched down in Los Angeles at 1:15am this morning after having catering an event in Palm Springs. I must be slipping back into the groove as I was about 87.4% happy with my timing, cooking & plating presentation – a big advancement from Fridays affair at the same house (I’m not one to scapegoat but on Friday I had “Mitilda the Moron Maid” as my only assistant and really, she should stick with Panda Express & Bubbilicious bubblegum). As for the three hour drive there and back? A journey as such provides one that solitary opportunity to really delve within and turn the channel in an endless search for the right tune, adjusting the volume to personal preference as the crisp desert air comes streaming through the window and Journey belt’s out “don’t stop believing” . . . jiving to the catchy beats until that annoying commercial promoting the latest and greatest Fat burner Pill steals your karaoke moment (I hardly needed any reminders of my late lunch selection). Somewhere between here & bum’fk nowhere, a thought occurred to me - as this journal is cause to share inspiration in all of its many forms, as I’m attempting to encourage you to explore self-awareness beyond the outlet of a kitchen . . . “we should include a song with each daily journal entry”

I’ve referenced my love for dancing before, but what is dancing without the music? I'd rather not try to make something out of nothing; your basic bass thumping will adequately suffice . . but it oh, how it can be so much more! What is music? It’s that billboard top charts song that you’ve assigned to your most recent love escapade, it’s that heart break melody that you’ve added to a repertoire of “let go’s” and it’s that elevating tune that was blasting over the gymnasium befuddled sound system as your team celebrated winning the first game of the season. Music has a way with our emotions –and why shouldn’t it? As much damage as mankind does it is our artistic creations that stand out as our pinnacles of potential. The chain of music extends deep into a series of artists aspiring to translate their talent into a profession.

At the conception, you have a song writer etching out the words to a love lullaby, the verses of sadness & loss, or the often harsh jibberish of street scene living. Then there is the composer who actually writes out the hieroglyphic notes applicable to any assortment of musical instruments, which brings us to those amazing individuals that followed their broke-ass Peter Pan flute dreams. Of course, there’s the lead singer & band who applies their uniqueness to the ballad and whence the song is consecrated, the album composition finalized, the CD cover drafted . . there is the dramatic concert performance involving theatrics, choreographers, lighting specialists - all acts placating to world of creative energy. The moment concludes with the fan – just like all of the preparations for an amazing dinner touched with a chef’s personality . . . it is that simple enjoyment and appreciation for an artistic production created by the hand of man. Cathedrals in the sky, Monet impressions, Billy Joel keyes . . we can be quite amazing when we choose to be!

And we conclude with some beckoned interaction here - I am open to your song suggestions that are most applicable to one of my past journal entries (I’m going to clean-them up a bit to our finalized “blog format”). Your input and participation are greatly valued as a guest at the dinner table . . . I might be scene whistling to the tune of my own beat , but we share the common dance floor of life. It’s up to you to decide if you want to join me, the tempo vibrating, the bass pulsating, the emotional triggers transporting one to an ethereal state . . you’re out of your body now, the feet shuffling to a different commander in chief, your hips swaying to the beat of freedom . . . let’s groove together baby cause I got's the moves like Jagger!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1PL2oeqDTY
Back to the beat,
Chef Scotty

The Sonnet of Shrimp Ceviche
You’ll need some quality chips for this recipe or if you’re adventurous you can buy tortilla’s and fry up your own . . . a precursor party at your casa? The club calls to you like the lime calls to avocado – love making in a bowl, shake your booty and remember that salt is your best friend!

Ingredients
• 1 pound peeled and deveined medium shrimp
• 1 cup fresh lime juice
• 3 red bell peppers, diced
• 1 large red onion, diced
• 1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced, or to taste
• 1 mango, peeled and diced
• 2 avocados, diced (optional)
• 2 ribs celery, diced (optional)
• chopped fresh cilantro & mint to taste
• salt and pepper to taste

Directions
1. Place shrimp in a glass bowl and cover with lime juice to marinate (or 'cook') for about 10 minutes, or until they turn pink and opaque. Meanwhile, place the red bell pepper, onion, jalapeno & mango (and avocados and celery, if using) in a large, non-reactive (stainless steel, glass or plastic) bowl.
2. Remove shrimp from lime juice, reserving juice. Dice shrimp and add to the bowl of vegetables. Pour in the remaining lime juice marinade. Add cilantro and salt and pepper to taste. Toss gently to mix.

Shaken & Stirred, A Course in Pasta, Hallpass

“The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

December 26th, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OwbqxZFVMOQ

Compost, recycled holly, stomach turning, Advil advocating . . you guessed it, I went out dancing last night with Ms. Whitney & Mr. Silver Patron. It's 9:21 am, I took a taxi right? >walking out to check the street< Confirmed - good boy Scotty. I danced to the songs that held a good beat. I stood off to the side when the music lacked any substance, and I washed down my Jingle Bell-less attitude with 6 oz shots of tequila. My Christmas complete, my reluctance to participate in "battling" certified, I wipe my crusted, weary eyes and re-gain focus . . I have a dinner to cook in Palm Springs.

A Course in Pasta

Gnocchi Chopsticks with Pickled Honeydew & Prosciutto

Seared Sea Scallop, Lobster-Saffron Cream Sauce, Lemon Pepper Papparedelle

Artichoke Tapenade encrusted Black Bass, Umbricelli-n-Cheese with Porcini Mushroom

Tangerine-Basil Granite

Veal Agnolotti with Smoked Tomato-Fennel Sauce, Capicola-Chevre Blossoms

Meyer Lemon Ricotta Cannelloni, Huckleberry Gastrique, Spiced Crème Anglaise & Fresh Berries

My equilibrium askew and not enough synapses firing upstairs, diluted emotions & an upset stomach . . I'm gonna have to take a hallpass on today's journal entry. Appropriately, I leave you with a blueprint for creating a specialty cocktail. Shake it up, drink it down and remember to take two aspirin before you crawl into bed!

with Culinary Blessings,
Chef Scotty

Specialty Libations in a Martini Glass
A cool, flirty martini is the perfect cocktail for lounging by the pool, throwing a party or setting the tone for a romantic evening. Utilizing your personal liquor cabinet and a few easy ingredients from a grocery store, you'll have partner or guests wondering where you went to bartending school.

Instructions
Things You'll Need
• Martini glass
• Shaker with strainer
• Ice
• Vodka (if non-alchoholic you’ll substitute more club soda & sprite –stir don’t shake!!!)
• Club soda
Place a martini glass in the freezer to chill. Place 4 ice cubs, 2 oz. vodka and 1 oz. club soda in the shaker.
Add your mix of choice, shake your frustrations out and pour. Finish with a splash of club soda & garnish.


1.) rosehip litchi martini: purchase two cans of litchi & rosewater (at your local Persian or Kosher store). Open the cans and process the litchis with the juice in a blender, add one teaspoon of rosewater & follow the recipe above. Garnish with a rosepetal.

2.) tangerine-thai basil martini: purchase thai basil (or regular),chiffonade (cut up finely) and set aside with a damp paper towel covering any air exposure to prevent oxidation. Tangerine juice is available at any natural food store but you can easily substitute any juice here (kerns guava & mango work well but they do have corn based thickeners). Mix the tangerine juice & thai basil together, then pour into a container & place in freezer for at least 8 hours. To make your martini – omit the ice in the shaker!!!! And instead, carve out 2 scoops of your granite (iced fruit juice) pouring your vodka over it, shake it like you would your boss if you could, add a splash of club soda – and enjoy! Garnish with any fresh fruit: strawberries, mango wedges, orange slices

3.) muttled men martini: purchase oil cure olives (dry packed usually or available at any olive bar) & a jar of pepperocini’s. Slice and dice your little pickled peppers & olives, mix and set aside. Use a good vodka for this one – I like Chopin (still made with potatoes) or Belvedere and OMIT the club soda. Afer shaking, Put about two heaping tablespoons of your mix with 1 tablespoon of pepperocini juice. No garnish needed – this little guy is spicy, salty and goes down ohhhhh, so smooth!

The Ornamental King & Porky Christmas Crowns

“Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?”
― Henry David Thoreau

Christmas Day, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCf2PoTuh4Q

Another year and it doesn’t seem like Christmas Day – I’m not with family or friends – just me and my lonesome self, I’ve eaten entirely too many chocolates, I am working . . . always working – hell, I got’s to work if I’m yet to achieve another comeback tour to this seemingly endless novel of struggles and persecution. At least I’ve discovered such solace from the lessons to be learned within the turning of each page, the conclusion to by hypothesized with each chapter shedding a touch more light.

Yesterday, I shared my gifts created for my reclusive Aussie lover it’s only fair that now on Christmas Day, I properly acknowledge those gifts revealed from our spontaneous starburst of romanticism:

he recalibrated my understanding of love and in less than seven magical days he has now set the bar for any other suitor to uphold. I will honor myself in accepting nothing less than that to which I deserve . . with definite finality issued to our relationship, today I seal the envelope and set aside with my past due bills. The knowing & the unknown are now officially in the same basket.

he kindled a fire of passion that burned away a lot of baggage which has transpired into new creativity in writing, cooking, painting, thinking, creating . . . too many opportunities before me, it’s up to me and me alone to make the right choices if I am to reach the desired outcome.

he put a pause to our budding love, our companionship of limitless potential which has afforded both of us time to contemplate the next course of action – this has allowed me an opportunity to refocus on the most immediately pressing priorities of work development, stabilized finances & the final chapter of my ChileCo & Eden legal affair.

he reinforced my awareness of just how strong and I am . . it’s been a year where I’ve had friends willing to compromise integrity & loyalty for the sake of personal gain at my expense. My belief in humanity slightly tilted, but not exactly chucked into the garbage disposal either.

Mirror Mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all . . . .

I add these experiences today to my past history of adventures in dating and a rather limited selection of lovers. Not exactly a lot to report, I’ve never cleared a year with anyone (priority 1 = success), just your usual collection of ankle biting, unappreciating, dog-eat-dog cheating types with a few good ones thrown in the mix (which I successfully managed to sabotage).

I really don’t think “dating” is a proper name for this entire companionship interviewing process. Maybe they should rename it “battling.” Its seems our harsh world is quite accomplished in breeding doubt, jealousy, anger & hunger – love, gratitude, balance & harmony not exactly great assets to bring to the table of war. With no crown to conquer, I’ll suit up again, ready for the fight . . . strong enough to take a bullet, smart enough to have a plan of attack, intuitive enough to see a punch coming, and god-willing . . . lucky enough to get air-lifted out when it’s hopeless, rescued with the incoming instruction “mission aborted” or saved by the hand of another soldier . . hopefully he has topaz blue eyes too!

Merry Christmas,
Chef Scotty

Crown Roast of Pork Recipe with Pumpernickel-Crancider Stuffing
Whilst we give “love” a badly needed break, let’s give that damn turkey a rest for once,hook-it up with some beloved Piggly-Wiggly. If not, this playful twist on traditional stuffing will work on any victim of your choosing on any given day. Live with passion, love unconditionally & don’t cook like a Whitney.

Ingredients
• 7 pounds crown pork roast
• 2 cups chopped cranberries
• 1 cup red wine
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup butter
• 2 onions, chopped
• 2 cups chopped fennel
• 1 cup cooked, chopped parsnips
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 tablespoons ground black pepper
• 8 cups pumpernickel or rye bread cubes
• 2 apples – cored and chopped
• 1 cup – toasted walnut
• 1/2 cup spiced apple cider
• 1 egg
• 1 tablespoon poultry seasoning (option to add fresh thyme a big +++++)
• 1 tablespoon rasta rub (sub: garam masala spice blend)

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
2. Season pork roast with salt and pepper to taste, then place on a rack in an open roasting pan, rib ends down.
3. Bake at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for 2 hours. Roast will be only partially cooked.
4. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, combine cranberries, red wine and sugar and mix well; set aside. Melt butter or margarine in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onions, celery, fennel and cooked parsnips, sauté until tender, about 10 minutes. Add cranberry mixture and cook for another 3 minutes on high heat. Turn off heat and add salt, black pepper, bread cubes, apples, walnut, apple cider, egg, poultry seasoning & rasta rub. Toss well.
5. After the two hours, remove roast from oven. Turn rib ends up and fill cavity with cranberry/apple stuffing. Insert meat thermometer between two ribs in the thickest part of the meat, making sure that end of thermometer does not touch any bone.
6. Return stuffed roast to oven and continue roasting at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for about 1 1/2 hours, or until internal temperature of meat reaches 175 degrees F (80 degrees C). (Note: If stuffing becomes too brown, cover it with aluminum foil.)
7. To Serve: Place roast on warm platter and let stand for 15 minutes for easier carving. Slice between ribs to carve, and serve with stuffing.

A Lesson Unwrapped, Giving the Gift of Oneself, Almond Fortune Cookies

“I was not designed to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest.”
― Henry David Thoreau

On Christmas Eve, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82cydCLPgKI&feature=related
So exactly what is Christmas? A Hallmark bastardized evangelical holiday of retail explosion? An opportunity for our society to assign one little day out of 352 to actually come together as a family “unit” for a good dose of guilt & affection, an annual trip down memory lane, a persuasive invitation to partake in a thoughtful-n-thoughtless gift exchange? The majority of us hardly cling to religious indoctrinated mandates. Kids are more likely to be drawn towards candy & x-box than a cross & prayer; good ole’ Santa Claus and his slavedeers kickin-it with the Cantebury egg bearing Easter Bunny as our savior Jesus Christ fixes them another round of Mango Mojitos. I myself, have long since abandoned the ideals of a monolithic church (although God & I do chat occasionally . . or more like, a veteran wedding couple cursing at each other) and in the light of Buddhism … my beliefs are that is your one and only life, the gifts are to found in everyday occurrences and it’s exactly your choice whether or not to take notice, whether or not to give freely or expect reciprocation. Happiness the goal of attainment.

Eight foot tall Blue Spruces sawed off at the expense of a century old Tatenbaum tradition, slurps of viscous eggnog, slices of commercialized pumpkin pie, Nat King Cole melodies, stockings hanging from a fireplace-less, eggshell-white painted drywall . . . the attributes are within the intent & more practically exposed by the benefit of a lasting custom that will undoubtedly never fade – too much money to be had . . . you can take the God out of the Gift, but you can’t take the Gift out of God (Allah, Buddha, Jehovah, Yahweh, Jah, Holy Spirit, Mother Nature, Almighty or whatever you believe it to be).

I’m not trying to paint a negative connotation around this Holly holiday – it does a damn good enough job without my cynical input. I think whence you unwrap all of that shiny, glitterized & bowtied shit, you’ll find that most materialistic expressions lack any real shelf-life and the true inspiration of gratitude & instantaneous infatuation fades as fast as an American Idol contestant. I’m gonna throw it out there that maybe ten thousand people out of the 6,840,507,000 billion actually took the time and effort to whittle an artisan quality, burlwood maple salad bowl or stitched and bitched together a hand-crafted quilt for a loved. No, not likely . . . I’d be a hypocrite to say that I did much else other than refrain from participating in this obligatory exchange all together with the exception being gifts for my nieces & nephew . . . and I’d be remise to withhold from you that I assembled quite the heartfelt, romantic package for my Aussie lover . . . it never made it to the post office (intuitive hesitation you could say) but I’ll share with you the contents for the purpose of redeeming myself in the act of creating your gifts:

1.)One hand-made card with words of the heart – a symbol via a poem I wrote eleven years ago that pretty much spot on describes him and how we’d feel together if we ever met

2.)One eighteen year old, stuffed animal platypus from my childhood (named Charlie) – a symbol of my playful childhood demeanor & the seemingly known fate to be found in Australia

3.)One rare succulent that would grow with time, threw drought or famine – a symbol of that which could endure any hardship and prosper with a pair of nurturing attentive hands

4.)One pair of really too cool leather sneakers – a symbol of the separation yet possibilities, each of us having to two feet to carry us in any direction we choose, our footprints easy to follow or walk hand in hand along any journey.

5.)One bottle of Conundrum Sauvignon Blanc Wine – a symbol of our first dinner (day two) and the spontaneous nature of our meeting, the living in the moment lifestyle, the laughter, easy flowing conversation & pleasured smiles to be shared over many more dinners.

6.)Wisconsin hometown nibbles – including some Chocolate Caper artisan chocolates (there’s a story there) cashew brittle, and of course, cheeses of all sorts -symbols of the those little favorite things we’d yet to learn about each other

7.)Last but not least, a dream journal – you see, he has vivid dreams and so, I took my own journal from 1999-2000 and cut out all of my rough drafts (from which I had painted canvas in oil & acrylic), sketches, poems & a few excerpts, pasting them throughout and scribbling a few thoughts here or there. It was/is titled “an imaginary, wonderful world by LR” Yesterday’s blog sums it up as I was putting the final touches to my piece de resistance (seven days ago) – my intuitive dumb-ass sensed this gift wouldn’t be making the trip to Melbourne.

The final present, one of those little mobile cameras that I attached to my labtop for the purpose of updating my technological capabilities and more importantly; Skype allowing us the ability to see each other as we conversed. . . a symbol of no matter the distance, no matter the challenge – we’d find a way. Whence the communication channels were opened up (lol – Diamonds & Pearls just came on), I confronted my premonitions with him and certified his need for space, a break, a timeout, things were moving too fast (yes, that’s right LOL – we’re separated by a big ass body of water called the Pacific Ocean but apparently that’s too close LOL, oh boy – LOL)! Now, you might think – “that’s way over the top, Scotty’s pathetically in love, excessive too excessive, you’re gonna freak him out (if so: mission accomplished) or how absolutely romantic, I wish someone would do that for me?”

The truth be told, I don’t need anyone else’s approval or jaded doubts of what is or isn’t right when comes to my emotions– that package, my words, my thoughts are of pure, good intention and like our time spent together . . . I enjoyed every minute of assembling it, conceiving each element in honoring my desires to make him happy, to put a smile on his face, to touch his heart like nobody else has ever done. In so doing – it was just as much a gift to myself!

Giving & Receiving: an equal exchange is not likely to transpire so one must hold tight to the principal of “it was the thought that counts” But even that very thought fails to truly inspire the true meaning of giving . . . I mean that involves some “intuitive” thought that you’re going to get something in return! How about just giving for the sake of giving with no expectation of receiving?

Another Citibank MasterCard already maxed to the hilt, the presents stashed in tow below the Mary Kay camouflaged Christmas tree, this year chalked up to yet another status-quo Holiday at the Wagners . . . perhaps this coming year of 2012 you’ll make an effort to embrace a refreshed perspective on the gift of giving? Maybe you could celebrate this philosophical tradition daily . . . all 352 days of the year, the gift of yourself . . . present enough?

Happy Holidays to All,
Chef Scotty

The FORTUNE found WITHIN: Recipe for Almond Fortune Cookies
This make for a great homemade gift for a party, an unexpected "thanks for being in my life" a wedding rehearsal dinner at "Wok with Me" You'll burn the shit out of your fingertips but gain so much pleasure & acknowledgement for your sweetness. Note: you can also dip these in dark chocolate for a touch more class & decadence but make sure you keep this tightly wrapped up - moisture will make em' soft!

Ingredients:
fortunes printed on 3 x 3/4" thin papers (I write these by hand, mix'em up with humor, memories, inspired quotes, ridiculous prophecies, etc.)
3/4 cup unbeaten egg whites
1 2/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup melted butter
1 cup flour
3/4 cup finely chopped blanced almonds
1/2 teaspoon each of vanilla & almond extract

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine and mix egg whites, sugar and salt until sugar is dissolved. Stir in separately and beat until well blended the butter, flour, almonds and flavoring. Drop the dough in tablespoons, well apart, onto an ungreased baking sheet.

Bake about 10 minutes or until the edges are golden brown. Mold cookie (curl) over a wooden spoon handle. Insert fortune paper in each cookie letting part of the paper project. Pinch the ends of the roll closed while the cookie is still warm.