Welcome to Part II of the 2010 CTB Super Bowl recipe throw down. For the uninitiated or those lacking cognitive reasoning, jambalaya is a dish native to Louisiana, New Orleans in particular. Therefore this dish is dedicated to the New Orleans Saints. My life is too consumed with cooking and banging to pay much attention to football stats. The Saints or the Colts could triumph and it wouldn’t make any difference so long as I have someone warm and cuddly in my bed that night. But in terms of the Food Bowl, New Orleans crushes Indianapolis hands down. The cuisine down South is like a wet dream jumping right off my plate and down my pantaloons. It might be the French influence, it might be the innovations of American ancestors, it might be that I am totally gay for spicy food. I wager all three. But you will turn a few heads with this dish that feeds the hungry, unwashed masses. So whomever you’re cheering for, you will leave a winner with phone numbers and possibly a football-loving hottie on your arm. Read the rest of this entry »
Riding dirty is the Southern way. At least that is what I learned on my most recent visit to New Orleans. I befriended a Southern belle boozing it up with absinthe at a vampire bar down a dark alley. She did not believe that I was a master of disaster in the kitchen. So I took her challenge on the spot to go back to her place and fix up a meal with only what I found in their kitchen. This cutie with an even cuter accent was unprepared for the awesome assault I unleashed in her mouths and loins. I managed to make NEVER FLAKES CRAB CAKES (minus the mango), a simple salad and a SLOB ON MY KNOBBLER COBBLER with pears. My payment for all my efforts was a cocktail that I present to you. She called it a Pink Lady since she is after all genteel and demure. But the demure soon fizzled away by our fourth round. That’s when she showed me true hospitality in her boudoir. It was only after, while I sipped a lukewarm pink lady as she slumbered next to me that I understood the saying: “Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez.” Read the rest of this entry »
Ready, aim, fire! KERPLOW! That’s the sound of resistance to your sexy ass being obliterated. Oysters as you well know rev up the engine in your pantalones like filling up a Prius with rocket fuel or feeding a gerbil meth. And combine it with the sweet warm embrace of vodka and you are ready to fucking rumble, I first fell in love with oyster shooters in the Big Easy, New Orleans for you uninitiated. I downed three of them before charging out onto Bourbon Street where Mardi gras madness was on like a very horny Donkey Kong. The seething mass of frat boys and sorostitutes were no match for me. I was suited and booted with oyster power that made me stand out from the crowd of fools. I led one such sorority tramp away from the rest of the Greeks, pounded oyster shots with her and then vanished to my nearby hotel room where we banged each other’s brains out. Things got a little weird after when I forgot her name (Courtney perhaps?), but my libido made up for my apparent disrespect of this Southern Belle, I do declare!
Remove the raw oysters from the shells and scoop them into the shot glasses. Add the cilantro and lemon, fill up the glasses with vodka, and add a few dashes of Tabasco sauce. Bottoms up…literally!
There’s a ragin’ Cajun in each of us eager to get out and start bangin’. Even those who’ve never been down south around Louisiana parts have one. It’s in the fine print of your body’s owners’ manual. He or she comes out every once in a while after you’ve fed yourself enough spicy food. It tingles at first, and before you know it, your body has been possessed like in some voodoo incantation ceremony. Your body dances, shakes, drinks and bangs to some mysterious West Indian drum beat. Those who know you best won’t recognize the crazy person speaking in barely coherent tongues. The words you say will fall somewhere between English, French, and marbles in your mouth. But don’t you worry. As soon as your ragin’ Cajun is done bangin’, they’ll become dormant and leave you to clean up the aftermath. Should you wake up next to some sexy, you’re welcome. If you wake up in jail, I ain’t paying your bail.
Total time: approximately 10 minutes
Projected cost: $11
Drinking Buddy: Beer or a BANGARITA
1. 1 lb of SHRIMP
2. ½ tsp of Cajun seasoning
3. 1 tbsp of vegetable oil
4. 1 small handful of chopped celery
5. 1 tbsp of fresh chopped ginger
6. 2 cloves of chopped garlic
Sauté the garlic, ginger and celery with vegetable oil on medium-high heat (approx 2 min).
Peel the tails and shells from the shrimp. Sauté the shrimp in the oil until they pinken (approx 2 min per side). Sprinkle Cajun seasoning other the shrimp and cook in the flavor (approx 1 min).
Serve it up on a plate solo or with some SPANKING SPANISH RICE.