I am what I eat, or, a tribute to meat

I'm not going to lie, I eat a lot of meat. Probably too much to be healthy. I only have one vegetarian friend and I give her shit for it all the time. You know who you are.

Vegetarians aside, I don't know anybody who does not like fried chicken. You can have the most sophiscated palate in the world, but who can say no to a perfectly crisped chicken leg, dripping in fat? I don't own a deep-fryer, more's the pity, but fried chicken in a pan is still good enough for government work, as they say in this town.


I bought a whole red snapper the other day because it was on sale, and filleted it myself. I was pretty proud of that fact but then I messed up the skin while pan-searing it. Cooking fish is hard. Most fish is so delicate, you have to know what you are doing. Here I ate it with some noodles and braised baby bok choy.



If my mother only knew how much butter I use in cooking, she would shake her head in disgust and walk away. I don't know where I learnt it from because we never used a lot of fat cooking at home when I was growing up. If we did it was almost always vegetable oil, which I almost never use today. But a large pat of butter, a couple of cloves of garlic, a sprig of rosemary - throw them all in the pan and that's the perfect way to make a steak. Well, if you don't have a grill, of course. I threw in half a shallot because I had it handy, and as it sizzled in the pan I licked my lips in anticipation.


I actually like my steak a teensy bit little rarer than this, but hey, nobody's perfect. We all make mistakes.


And the close-up.


While we're on the topic of red meat, I was making beef short ribs the other day and as I took them out of the pot after searing them I could not resist taking a photo of them. Look at that short rib right there, sitting there all innocently like nothing is the matter. God damn it. You know you are delicious. What gives you the right!? Here you go down. Down in my belly.


Et voila.