Food Porn

I'm not a fan of food porn. It gives me a complex. That beautifully prepared and displayed food in that photo has been primped, plumped, faked and Photoshopped as much as any fashion model--and yet I still feel pressured to have my final dish look as good as the photo accompanying the recipe.

I somehow doubt I'm the only one who experiences this problem, but nevertheless, food porn's a big business. You've got professional food photographers and food handlers for photoshoots--hell, Food Network even had a competition for Food Network Challenge in which food handlers prepared particular dishes for photos, and the person deemed to have prepared the best-looking dishes in the resulting photos won. Never mind if the food was nutritious or even prepared well. Certain undercooked foods photograph better than fully cooked ones, and some foods aren't even used at all because they don't photograph well. Got milk? Nope, got Elmer's glue.

But if the picture makes you want to buy the food product advertised or make the recipe, then the porn's done it's job.

If the image repulses you and makes you physically ill, then it hasn't done its job. Methinks the folks who've contributed photos for this steak pie recipe on AllRecipes.com should reconsider their ability to create food porn before uploading any more photos:

Pardon me, Gentle Reader, but I have to go toss my cookies now....

In a Picadillo

The other day on NPR, I heard that pork farmers have been hit particularly hard. Yeah, sure, there's the whole swine flu brouhaha, which has folks avoiding pork for fear they'll contract the flu by eating Miss Piggy and her family. But before that, pork prices had already taken a plunge, although I don't recall the piece going into much detail.

What this crisis in pig farming means for consumers who do not abstain from pork for various religious, health or idealogical reasons is that pork is fairly cheap. I can't tell you how many times HEB's had pork chops of various cuts on sale at very attractive prices. For that reason, I've got a handsome array of chops in the freezer, all waiting to be prepared in some delicious way.

More often than not, that delicious preparation has included some type of spice rub. Yeah, I know, Gentle Reader, it's not the most challenging or unique method, but it's quick and it makes for a flavorful meal. But as I contemplated how to make another round of chops this week, I was in a bit of a pickle. I wanted flavor but didn't want to do yet another rub.

I found my solution in Cuba.

Quick Pork Picadillo Sandwiches1 1/2 C chopped onion (about 1 medium)
1 t bottled minced garlic
1 lb. lean ground pork
1/2 C golden raisins
1 T chili powder
2 T red wine vinegar
1 t pumpkin pie spice
1/2 t salt
28 ounces canned diced tomatoes, drained
1/4 C sliced pimiento-stuffed green olives
8 1.5-oz. whole wheat hamburger buns

1. Cook the onion, garlic and pork in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat 5 min. or until browned, stirring to crumble.
   
2. Drain the mixture and return it to the pan.
   
3. Stir in the raisins, chili powder, vinegar, pumpkin pie spice, salt and tomatoes.
   
4. Reduce heat and cook 5 min., stirring occasionally.
   
5. Stir in the olives.
   
6. Spread about 2/3 cup of the picadillo mixture on the bottom half of each bun, then cover with the top half of the bun.

Yield: 8 sandwiches

Nutritional Info
Calories: 289
Fat: 9.2 g
Sat fat: 2.5 g
Protein: 15.8 g
Carbs: 37.7 g
Fiber: 3.3 g
Cholesterol: 43 mg
Sodium: 754 mg

The Faudie's Futzings
"But you had pork chops!" you wail, Gentle Reader?

Yup, I had pork chops--and no plans to make sandwiches. Here's my grand futzings:

1. Heat a small amount of canola oil in a large skillet.
2. Add the chops and brown on all sides, then set aside and keep warm.
   
3. Add the onions and begin to saute.
4. As the onions are growing tender, add the garlic.
   
5. When the garlic becomes fragrant (about 30 sec. or so), return the pork to the skillet.
6. Add the diced tomatoes, vinegar, spices and seasonings, stirring to combine and coat the chops.
   
7. Add the raisins and stir to combine well.
   
8. Let the concoction simmer until the pork is cooked through and, if you're a worry-wart, reaches the internal temperature (I think it's 180 degrees F) recommended by the USDA to kill the Trichinella that can give you trichinosis.
   
9. Serve the concoction on a thin bed of the rice of your choice.

And that's how I made this recipe using pork chops, Gentle Reader!

By the by, notice that I didn't use any green olives (blech!). When I substituted the ground red chili pepper for the regular chili pepper, I only used half a tablespoon since I find my stuff is about twice as heat-producing as regular chili powder.

I also had to make my own pumpkin pie spice because I had none and was too lazy to run to the big HEB at Parmer and I-35 to pick some up. Making your own isn't the world's most difficult challenge. I found guidelines on Cook's Thesaurus, took into account the spices I had on hand and fixed up my own batch. Badda-bing badda-boom.

The dish is very reminiscent of some Indian and Moroccan dishes I've made recently with its combination of heat (red chiles) and sweet (pumpkin pie spice) and acid (tomatoes). Serving it atop rice definitely gives it a curry-esque taste, texture and dining experience. While draining the diced toms is important if you're making sandwiches from this stuff, letting a little bit of liquid stay in the cans of (no-salt-added) diced toms is essential for a curry-like dish.

How Cuban is this dish? Haven't a bloody clue, Gentle Reader, as I've never eaten Cuban food. Plus the recipe came from Cooking Light, and I've said before that the publication's "ethnic" dishes are scurrilously toned down for bland American taste buds.

Loss

We had a loss in the family yesterday. It came quite unexpectedly.

One of our bread machines has apparently gone to Electronics Heaven.

(Yes, Gentle Reader, there is an Electronics Hell. But it's a hell on earth, for it's the place you are when you can get an infernal device to work or work the right way. The experience of calling a technical support hotline is it's own circle of Hell.)

Midday yesterday, I was whipping up another loaf--a futzed recipe!--for the boy's lunches in the Breadman TR444, a machine I've come to enjoy using for its many options (most of which I haven't used) and its relative compact size. No more than 10 minutes after starting the cycle, the thing stopped. I wasn't in the kitchen at the time, but I knew the first kneading phase was longer than 10 minutes. Sure enough, the "Knead" button was still illuminated, but the paddle wasn't moving.

I stopped the cycle, unplugged the machine and pushed aside the developing dough to make sure the paddle hadn't come off the stem. Nope, it was still secure. Puzzled but not yet alarmed, I restarted the cycle, fearing more for the overdevelopment of the dough than for the machine.

Some eight minutes later, the machine stopped again. Okay, maybe there's something wrong with the whole wheat option, I considered. So I unplugged the machine, plugged it back in and chose a different cycle, the white with light crust option.

Can you guess what happened some eight minutes later?

I removed and replaced the pan to make sure it was seated well. I then attempted to start up yet another option, the rapid deluxe cycle, but the Breadman spit an error code at me. Of course, I couldn't find the damn manual I'd downloaded for this model to see what the code was about (it indicated the machine was too hot, I later learned), and choosing a fourth cycle option caused the error code to display again.

Fearing for the loaf--for I wasn't about to throw it out--I grabbed the Breadman TR555 off the floor, fished the paddle out of the TR444 bucket (the machines use the same paddle) and put it in place in the TR555 bucket, then transferred the dough. The dough at this point, Gentle Reader, was very stretchy--almost like gooey mozzarella on a hot pizza but slightly less viscous. Those poor overdeveloped proteins! I silently wailed as I got the rapid whole wheat cycle started on the second machine.

I listened with an attentive ear to the TR555, but it did its job as best it could with what it was given to work with. When the baking cycle ended, I was surprised to find such a squat loaf. Hell, I was happy the dough had risen much at all given that it had gone through four kneadings with precious little resting and rising time.

Holding my breath, I cut into the finished loaf, sure that I'd find a texture reminiscent of Swiss cheese because of the overdeveloped proteins. But no, it had no holes large enough to drive a school bus through. Sure, the bread was a bit chewy, but it's edible--and for the boy's lunches, that's kinda all that matters.

The futzed recipe was my attempt to blend the boy's new favorite loaf and my preferred loaf for him.

Crunchy Whole Wheat Bread7.5 oz. water
1 1/3 C whole wheat flour
1/3 C wheat flakes
1/4 C honey
1 t salt
1 T gluten
1 T butter
1 T dry milk
2 1/4 t active dry yeast

1. Add the ingredients to the pan in the order recommended by the bread machine' manufacturer.
   
2. Select the Whole Wheat option.
   
3. Start the cycle

Yield: 1 one-pound loaf

Nutritional Info
Nada

The Faudie's Futzings
I was this close to using agave nectar in lieu of the honey, but I didn't. I was taking enough of a chance substituting a third of a cup of the whole wheat flour, which is pretty dense, with the even denser wheat flakes. I didn't want to risk the agave not providing enough fuel for the yeast to do its job.

Of course, these were all concerns I had before I ran into technical difficulties. Le sigh....

Despite its chewiness, the bread has the wonderful nutty flavor you'd expect from whole wheat. The occasional soft crunch of one of the wheat flakes is an added bonus.

So what does a faudie do with an apparently broken bread machine that only cost her $11? I suspect the belt that turns the paddle stem is in need of replacement, but that would cost more than the machine itself, I suspect. I'll probably give the pan to Mum, who is now the proud owner of the TR444's twin that once claimed floor space in our kitchen. As for the machine itself, I might hold on to it just to have the thrill of disassembling it and looking inside. I enjoy doing that.

Yeah, I know, Gentle Reader. I'm a freak.