So, here's the dish I made a few weeks back with duck gizzards; only
instead, I'm using oysters. I was planning on chopping the
oysters up, but mashing them between my fingers proved easier.
Add a dash of dried onions and microwave.
I probably microwaved this too long. Some of the oysters got a
little black around the edges. Hence, I mixed it up prior to
taking a picture or serving. Wasn't great. Wasn't
bad. Was greatly enhanced by a bit of balsamic vinegar.
Quail
Quail in a one of those infamous stainless steel bowls. Can't say
the quail were overly worth the money. But I like innovation and
eating something different now and again, so I'll likely do
again. Next time, I'm going to slice them open and broil
them. If I had a barbecue, that might be ideal.
I cooked them for an hour at 425 or so (down to 350 half way
through). I might have overdone it. The breasts were
tough. While the legs and tiny (itsy-bitsy) wings dry (more or
less the way I like). Once again, next time, I'll cook them at a
higher temperature for less time. However, at 20 minutes (like
some recipes call for) seemed uncooked to me. I won't eat fowl of
any sort unless it's cooked all the way through. I find raw bird
disgusting (like some folks -- myself included -- might find raw bacon).
The first time around, I served the quail with a cherry balsamic
sauce. These are canned cherries from Trader Joe's, top of the
line canned fruit if you ask me.
Tom
Kha Gai Quail
But like I said, it was all a little dry and chewy for me, so a coconut
curry seemed just the thing. It's the standard mix for me.
I already covered this once, so no great detail. A Tom Kha Gai
sauce packet, hot peppers, fish sauce, and lemon juice to trick it out.
This is what the raw sauce looks like. Everything is cooked, so
I'd be more than happy to lick the spoon after mixing this in, but I
like my curry warm.
In go the quail. At this point, the coconut curry is runny.
And then, who knows how much time later (maybe a half hour at 250 to
warm things up; and then, I finished it by broiling for the last few
minutes to get more of a crust. Looks good to me. I like
rice and curry, but vegetables are perhaps healthier (perhaps).
There here would be a close up of the cooked quail in Tom Kha Gai
sauce. Looks good to me.
I made six quail, so I think this here would be the third meal we got
out of it. (Two of us were eating, but the second on sort of.)
Anyhow, the oyster spinach got joined by the five grain rice and I
added a little olive oil (just a dash) to the spinach and some balsamic
(another dash, maybe slightly larger) to the rice.
And here it is at the table, ready to eat.
Here's maybe a better picture -- shows the elegance of the table a bit
more. If I was into candles, this would be the time to bring them
out. (Personally, they bug my eyes unless they're placed far off
in the corner of the room. Don't like them in my line of sight --
or a work area, which is what my plate is to me).
OK. So, let's see.
One quail for me for first, second, and third meal. Girlfriend
had half a quail each for the first and second meal, so she just got
leftovers for the third meal. (Yeah, that's right. Don't
eat your quail for supper and it will be waiting for you in the
morning, Missy!)
Anyhow, sum the square, carry the one, mod six from five, or whatever
the correct syntax is, and I believe that means there's one quail
left. Hmmm? One quail. And then, there's you and me
and who knows how many others. (Well, OK. Fair's fair, just
you and me.) And that means there's not enough quail to go around.
Tell you what, I play you for them.
And that will be the pretext for a little game I like to call:
Tom
Kha Gai Quail Monte
From Pizza Parlors of Pittsburg (I live in CA, so it's spelled right)
to
Sushi Houses of Stockton , I've slung hash in many a restaurant.
The
working conditions were often terrible and the wages always low, so I
learned how to supplement my income as many before me: by playing Three
Card Monte.
Now, this isn't Three Card Monte. Playing such a game might be
illegal. So, all appearances to the contrary, that's clearly not
what we're doing. No, instead, I'm going to show you how I manage
to rig things in my favor, so I get more leftovers.
Below, please note that there are three (count them, three) containers
suitable for storing leftover food.
However, only one of them contains any Curried Quail. The other
two are empty.
Your mission (should you choose to accept it) is to discover which
container holds the food.
Simple, really.
This is
way too
easy. And I feel like getting hustled. How about we play for $50 a game? (For entertainment purposes only. All wagers are simulated. No winnings will be paid or honored.)
Total Number of Games Won:
Total Number of Games Lost:
Total Wager Owed to Brett:
(Statistics do not include current game, which are updated after the reset button is pressed.) (Whether a game is rigged... or, er,
rather, whether a game is for Monopoly Money or not can be changed
prior to first play of any game.)
(Note: unless I've made a mistake or
you've hacked the code (and
therefor disqualified yourself by cheating), I'm pretty sure the 'Wager
Owed to Brett' value will never-ever-ever, be negative. So
really, no need to play. Just cut your check now. Shall we
call it an even $100?)
(And yeah, there are still some
chinks in the interface; but at five plus hours, I'm calling it 'good
enough'.* Next time, I'm going to be very careful about adding
interactivity to any buttons. There are a lot of subtle game
state variations that need to be addressed (vis a vie the interplay of
the button and the check box -- especially since the check box can be
unchecked after the button has been pushed). Anyhow, all
decisions of judges are final. If for some reason 'Wager Owed to
Brett' value winds up being negative, obviously the game is broken and
so I can't be expected to pay. And one can hardly call a sure
thing gambling (since if the gambling box is check, you will most
assuredly lose), so let's just call the entire thing a joke, not to be
taken seriously. And with the best of jokes, after the laughing
is over, if you've got a spare $100 lying about, please feel free to
send it
my way.)
*Another 2 hours, and maybe it's all
cleared up. No sense leaving any bugs in the code when $50 a pop
is at state (or, you know, my reputation as a Coding God).
(NOTE: I coded this for the most in
the Komposer interface; but when I hit a snag, I ported it into
NetBeans, which cleared the problem up right quick -- getting all that
nasty JavaScript syntax right, don't you know.)
And there you go, the final dish. As good as any of the
rest. And well worth the day I spent coding in order to make sure
that it was mine, I might add.
(Oh, and I have it on good authority that cats like quail. At
least, the cats I live with do.)
This be Brett Food, the way
Brett makes it.
Nothing more, nothing less.
If you're not me, might I recommend consulting an appropriate recipe
book or cooking professional.
The game Three Card Monte
provided for entertainment purposes only.
If you had fun, feel free to send me $100.
Or even if you didn't, I could still use the $100.
I mean, even if you didn't play the stupid game, doesn't it sound like sort of fun to send me $100? I know it does to me.
Oh, and just in case you're interested.
Coding the game took at least 5+ hours.
The rest of the site, probably less than an hour to write up and format
the pictures.
OK, maybe two hours after the editing and everything. But really,
I like writing, so as they say, time flies when you're having fun.
