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 »
I like my catfish to match the color of my heart: black. At least that’s what every girl I just banged has said. Apparently sleeping with someone with no emotion beyond “boy that was fun, but the fact she hasn’t left yet is starting to annoy me” is not nice guy behavior. Who knew? I try to make up for my morally bankrupt existence through my culinary endeavors. Who’s to say that cooking a meal worthy of Jesus, Moses, Mohammed or Yoda can’t redeem oneself? This blackened catfish should at least temporarily make up for my blackened heart. Read the rest of this entry »
The South will rise again…in your mouth. I do declare! This outstanding Southern Cuisine classic is a sure fire way of impressing even that skeptical date who sneered at the 4-course meal you’ve already served. Your caveman instinct will kick in like a racehorse back-kick to the cranium the moment you combine fire and food. Putting an amazing dessert on fire is like thunking a cave-babe over the head with a club and dragging her into the cave (works on cave-dudes too). The bananas sweet crispy outside gives way to a hot creamy center that is begging for some culinary cunnilingus. The extra Foster sauce works like a much-need lube that allows you to navigate the sweet and rummy flavors. And you can always cool it all down with dip in the melting ice cream pool. Prepare to have your mind and possibly something else blown.
Back in September I took Cook To Bang ON THE ROAD for a month courtesy of Jet Blue’s All-You-Can-Jet Pass. I reached out to CTB readers, old friends, old flames, and random hotties on my many flights to find gaggles of girls to cook for. The challenge was to create three-course meals using only what I found in their fridges and panties, I mean pantries. There were easy ones and total clusterfucks. I raided University of Illinois, Chicago dorm rooms for food and somehow created salad, nachos, steamed asparagus, and epic fail peanut butter cookies for 25 students. Editor extraordinaire Gary Evans edited this sizzle reel from 9½ hours of footage. Yes, that is what I look like.
You might be able to cook better if you don’t live in a dorm and just take classes from home.
It has indeed been an oyster filled wonderland here at COOK TO BANG these last few weeks. I would apologize and offer some sort of assurance that something like this will never happen again. But I’m not some sucker embarrassed by the fact that I have a strong passion for sexy foods and sexier times. Oyster are among my favorite ingredients not only for that unique taste and texture, but because you rarely see aphrodisiacs effects demonstrated quite so obviously. You know that when you serve a plate of raw oysters, raunchy things are sure to follow. It’s almost like an unspoken contract two people enter into when the plate of raw goodness arrives at the table. You both accept that any frolicking that follows is not only appropriate, but expected. A word to the unwilling: refuse to eat or order them if you are going to be a prude buzzkill. For the rest of you lovelies, shuck and jive all the way to bed!
Total time: approximately 2 minutes
Projected cost: $9
Drinking Buddy: White wine or just about any LIBATION LUBRICATION
Ingredients (serves 2):
1. ½ dozen raw OYSTERS
2. 2 tbsp red wine vinegar
3. 1 dash black pepper
4. ¼ lemon
5. 1 pinch BASIL finely chopped
6. 1 pinch onion finely chopped
7. 1 pinch GINGER finely chopped
8. 1 micro pinch CHILI finely chopped
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!
Thanks to the good people at Jet Blue who sold me the All-You-Can-Jet Pass, I’m taking COOK TO BANG on the road. For the rest of September and half of October, my ass will be cooking meals in strangers’ homes all across America.
My challenge: to create a feast with only ingredients I find in their fridge and cupboards. These exploits will be filmed and edited into something that will be, at the very least, amusing as I transform stale Cheetos and a brillo pad into a culinary masterpiece using only a hot plate. The following cities are on notice during these dates:
New York, NY – September 10-15
Miami, FL – September 16-17
New Orleans, LA – September 18-20
Denver, CO – September 22-24
Chicago, IL – September 26-27
Charlotte, NC – September 28-29
San Francisco, CA – OCTOBER 2-4
Las Vegas, NV – OCTOBER 8-11
If you live in one of these cities and are down for a delicious experiment, send an e-mail to:
Stay tuned for delicious footage to follow. And now back to our regularly scheduled tomfoolery.
Everyone’s cherry gets popped at some point, save for a few devout priests and nuns. But I wager even these noble and holy rollers have indulged in some sort of debauch. Chances are, these indulgences are of the oral nature. Get your mind out of the gutter; I’m talking about food, fool! Belgium monks once made the greatest beers and chocolate in the world. You can still honor God with an edible orgasm so long as you don’t touch yourself inappropriately while you imbibe. The rest of us sinners have carte blanche to sin carnally while eating pigishly. I reckon it’s about that time to pop pop POP your cherry jubilantly. You will feel like you were touched for the very first time after your first bite. By the second and third and last bite, you will be a filthy culinary nympho eager for more. Next!
Ingredients (serves 2):
1. 1 dash cinnamon
2. Vanilla ice cream
3. 1 tsp vanilla extract
4. 2 tbsp brown sugar
5. 8-OZ juice (chef’s choice)
6. 1 tsp cornstarch
7. 1/8 butter stick
8. 2 fat handfuls of cherries
Bring the juice in a saucepan to a slow simmer on medium heat. Add the butter, brown sugar, vanilla extract, and cinnamon. Scoop out a little of the sauce, mix with the cornstarch, and add back to the sauce and reduce (approx 5 min).
Remove the stem and pits from the cherries and throw them into the sauce, cooking until they soften and congeal to the sauce (approx 3 min). Scoop ice cream into bowls and crown with the jubilee, you jubilant bastard!