Horton Deakins's Blog, page 7

My Caj-Mex Rice — the Real Deal

Caj-Mex Rice — with shrimp

Here’s a photo of the Caj-Mex Rice I made this evening.  No Andouille sausage in this one, but there was plenty of shrimp … and Cajun spice!  Ooooooooeeeeeeee!  And chili peppers!  Arrrrrrriba!

 

Remember Adam Ant?

Remember the “good 0ld days” during the early years of MTV when MTV actually was about music videos?  You couldn’t pay me to watch it today, but it was quite the thing when it first came out.

Here’s a video of Adam Ant doing “Goody Two Shoes” thirty-one years ago.  Does that not bring back memories?

Lebanese recipe revisited

You’ve shown such interest in my Caj-Mex rice recipe that I thought I would re-post this Lebanese recipe from, well, from a long time ago.  It is given by “Lana Abston,” a character from my novel, Time Pullers.

All right, food lovers, here’s my first Lebanese recipe.  Sorry it’s been so long in coming, but Craig has been distracting me with barbeque for so long that I’ve had trouble focusing on cooking anything.  I’m afraid I’ve become quite the brisket buff.

This recipe is a traditional lamb and string bean stew, called Loob-Yee Ib Lahm.  I know, I know, Mary had a little lamb, and most Americans don’t have the constitution to eat a cute little lamb.  But this recipe works fine with beef, so never fear.

First, we’re going to peel and halve three large onions.  Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.  Just light a candle nearby, or, for Pete’s Sake, use Vidalia onions.  Just get over it, will you?  Slice them along the grain into slivers about a half inch thick.  Set those aside, and we’ll come back to them later.

Cut about a pound to a pound and a half of beef into cubes, and brown it in a saucepan.  When you’ve done that, don’t skimp on the browning now; do it right—add enough butter to the pan to saute’ the onions, and add them to the mix.  Add enough water to cover the meat, and we’ll simmer it for awhile until the meat is almost done.

Now it’s time to add a can of tomato paste and another can of tomato juice.  I like to add a clove of garlic at this point, and I’ll throw in about a half teaspoon of pepper and a teaspoon of salt.  Simmer all this for awhile longer until the meat is done, then add two cans of green beans and cook another fifteen or twenty minutes. Have you figured out by this time that your pan wasn’t big enough?

Of course, you could serve this over just any kind of rice, but don’t.  I’m particularly fond of basmati rice, but any aromatic, long-grain rice will do nicely.  Don’t let me hear that you’ve used instant or minute rice, or so help me, I’ll find you and make you do this recipe all over again.

Hope you like it!

 

The Raving — verse 11

I’s jacked up by what was spoken, dude sat and flipped a subway token,

“No freakin’ way,” said I, “his bag come from the bodega store

He pickin’ off my wall’s plaster, and paper below it look like New York aster

Loaded his burner fast and racked it faster–Lord, I ain’t never seen such a bore—

Stomach rose up my throat when I see such a huge bore

Hope he don’t pop me never—nevermore.”

The Raving, verse 10

But this dark-clad dude, like he was expecting a bust, say only

That one word, crazy high like he just made a score.

I tell you this is one tough nut—He got me down in one deep rut—

Till I exclamed, “Say whut? Some of my friends live on this floor—

Better get your ass outta here, or they gonna come throw it out the door.”

But the dude just said “Nevermore.”

My Caj-Mex Rice Recipe

My mother could make a meal from a virtually empty cupboard.  That’s a skill she learned from her own mother, whose skills at producing something from nothing in the kitchen were unsurpassed.

Mom never taught me to cook—I suppose she figured I’d get married someday, so I wouldn’t need such skills.  Well, if Mom were alive today, all I could say to her is, “Mom, the times, they are a-changin’.”

So, at this point in my life, I’m finding learning to cook part necessity and part something that I just might turn into a hobby.  I’m no Sioux chef (hee hee!), but I whipped up something the other day that tickled my tastebuds.  If you like your dishes on the spicy side, then try my Caj-Mex rice.  Be careful, though, because it just might explode while you’re putting all the ingredients together.

Ingredients:

2 Cups rice, uncooked (I prefer jasmine rice)
1 or 2 links of Andouille sausage
Half a large onion, or one whole small onion (or 2/3 of a medium onion, yuk-yuk)
One can of Rotel tomatoes and green chilis (with habanjeros, if you can take it)
Butter or oil
Cajun spices
Soy sauce
Red pepper

Put the rice on to boil, and after you turn it down to simmer, start cutting up the onion into small, but not diced, pieces.  Throw the onion into a large frying pan with some butter or oil.  Cut the Andouille sausage into little hockey pucks, then half or quarter the pucks. Throw that in with the onions and butter and turn on the heat to sauté the onions.  Spread everything out with your spatula, and make sure each piece of everything is coated with Cajun spices.  Stir as it cooks.

Make sure you turn the heat off the rice when it’s done.  When the onions have cooked down long enough, stir the rice in with the onions and sausage.  Put just enough soy sauce on the rice to moisten it a little and to provide some salty taste.  Throw in the Rotel, Sprinkle more Cajun seasoning into the mix as you stir it, and add a little of the red pepper to ratchet up the heat a bit.

Turn up the heat and mix well for a few minutes, then turn the heat off and dish it up.  Serves one to six, depending on how hungry you are, or how much heat you can take, LOL.

Bon appetit!

Tribute to Mom

I don’t have many things that belonged to my mom, but this is one that I treasure.  It’s a jelly glass that she used as a drinking glass.  It’s not valuable, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  I know it’s a bit early, but if she were here, I’d wish her a Happy Mothers’ Day.

Moms Jelly Glass

A fitting end to my bike ride

This is what bid me farewell at the end of my bike ride at the lake this evening.  Nice, eh?

The Raving — verse 9

Tripped me out to hear this strange bird talk so straight up,

The dude had to be jiving—no clue what he said it for;

Every renter in the projects no matter what his dialect

Would never ever suspect he’d see such strangeness by his door—

Dude or dude-ess holding watch at his apartment door,

He say his name was “Nevermore.”

The Raving (Verse 8)

Then this ebony dude inducing my sad face into smiling,

Because he wasn’t joking, but a ghastly face he wore,

“Though I know that you aren’t raving,” I said, “you’re really misbehaving,

You’re upsetting me, though you seem to come from the bodega store,

Tell me why the name on your bodega bag says, “Plutonium Store”

But all the dude could say was “Nevermore”