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Friday, May 27, 2011

Honey Butter Makes It Better

I make a concerted effort to limit the amount of energy and space I devote on this blog to anything having to do with chain restaurants.  I will make some exceptions, such as the honey butter croissants from Rafferty’s. 

My mother introduced me to croissants when I was a boy with the occasional plastic-wrapped box from the grocery, and I’ve always appreciated the buttery, flaky, airy texture. It’s unlike any other bread.  Even the unauthentic canned Pillsbury variety is good. (I mean no disrespect to Pillsbury.  I love everything about Pillsbury.  In fact I plan to pay homage to their products on this blog.  They have mastered mass-produced breads and sweets.) 

MiniMe and I periodically hit Rafferty’s in our weeknight routine largely because she loves their croissants.  There is really nothing special about the croissants.  They are quite average, and are usually served at room temperature.  Any bread is best served warm in my opinion.

The thing that makes these croissants unique is the honey butter drizzle on top.  I think they call it butter, but it’s more like icing.  Even in this low-light, poor quality photo, you can see its seductive glisten…


Say what you will about the French, but they did a good thing in croissants. 

Add some honey butter/icing, and you’ve got carbs fit for a princess.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

Thank You, Pioneer Woman

For the past many months Mrs. High-Carb Carl has been obsessed with The Pioneer Woman. 

I gave my bride the gift of sight for Christmas (laser surgery) and still think her favorite gift may be the Ree Drummond cookbook she got from her mom.

Most weeks she tries at least one new Pioneer Woman recipe, planning the grocery list around the listed ingredients.  This week it was chicken pot pie.  And it was money.

Just look at this golden masterpiece…


Two thoughts raced through my mind as I devoured my second man-sized piece:
  1. Pot pie is awesome.  How could I have never appreciated it before?  It’s like a meat and three (or five) with dessert, all in one package.  Anything is good baked inside a flaky pie crust.
  2. Pioneer Woman is awesome.  She has transformed my wife’s entire outlook on the kitchen and I am reaping the benefits.
  3. My wife is awesome.  We still laugh about meals she botched when we were dating; so many that we both agreed that I should do the cooking.  Now she is the primary cook, and is really good at it.
Okay, that was more than two thoughts.  It all happened so fast.

Thank you, Pioneer Woman, for domesticating my football-loving, beer-drinking, strikingly-beautiful-in-all-the-right-feminine-ways-but-so-cool-in-a-non-girly-sort-of-way wife. 

Sunday, May 15, 2011

“Something amazing happens when you taste it!”

My four-year-old daughter summed it up well with that statement.
The Garlic Knots at Knead Dough Pizzeria in Hendersonville, Tenn., is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.  Period.
It’s that stick-to-your-ribs kind of bread that is filling but gets better with every bite, so you keep going until they are gone, which for us is a few short minutes.  There is a thin, golden brown layer of crust, just on top.  The “knots” label is given on account of the twisted dough that forms random sections of deliciousness, like a good homemade cinnamon roll.  No two rolls are the same shape.
The inside is dense and always warm and soft, cooked to that perfect point just beyond doughy.
The bread itself is amazing.  But then...the rolls are swimming in a pool of melted butter, garlic, sprinkled cheese and Italian herbs.  I would eat a stranger’s sweaty sock if it were covered in this nectar. 
As if the taste isn’t enough, this appetizer lists for a modest $3.50.
Bravo, Knead Dough.  Bravo.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Authentic Philly? In Nashville?

All famous American foods began as unique local favorites and gained popularity until they were copied throughout the country, even the world.  Philly cheesesteak is one of them.

You can find a Philly on the menu just about anywhere that serves sandwiches.  Some commercialized Phillies are darn good (Jersey Mike’s may be the best), but I’ve been disappointed more times than I can recall.  There are so many wannabes you can never be totally sure what you are going to get, especially if you have no baseline of what an “authentic” Philly is even supposed to be. 

I’ve been to Philly, but was either too young or too pressed for time on a business trip to be able to stop and experience a real cheesesteak.

Thanks to Labor of Love Mobile Food, I finally had the experience today, just a few short blocks from my office.


We learned of LOL from a recent article in the local business news and plotted a visit today when they were scheduled to be parked close.  These friendly folks are Philly transplants and take their sandwich-making seriously. 

The meat was juicy and tender.  The peppers and onions were fresh and not too firm, not too soft.  The provolone was oh so melty.  And the bread.  Oh the bread.  They use Amoroso’s hearth-baked rolls shipped direct from Philly.  They’re soft and tasty, but sturdy enough to hold all the fixings and the juices they produce.  

The way it all worked together was like a 100-piece orchestra playing a sold out concert in Flavor Town (shout out to Guy Fieri and TripleD).

These photos should tell you all you need to know.

BEFORE

AFTER



We’ll be back.  LOL.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

The Staff of Life

I love bread.  How can anyone not?

Bread has been a staple for mankind throughout our existence.

Bread was what Jesus broke at the Last Supper as a symbolic gesture of His selfless act of divine grace and love.  To not love bread is sacrilegious.

Well, maybe that is not quite how God intended it, but I do think He gave us bread to enjoy.  And enjoy it I do!

If you have renounced bread as part of some carb-free diet, then please stop reading here.  You will likely be disgusted by my blog.  Maybe tempted.  Maybe both. 

Everyone else: Let’s pause for a moment to think about how many different forms of bread exist, and how many foods are based on bread.  It’s astounding.  It’s exciting.  It gives me a lot to write about.

Of course I have my personal favorites, but I can also appreciate bread’s diversity and acknowledge that people like different breads for different reasons.  I won’t neglect you.

My dream job is to travel the globe tasting bread and writing about it so other bread-lovers can have better bread experiences.  This blog is my start.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Life Lessons in Cereal

It was early one weekend morning.  I was 8, maybe 9, brother Dan two years my elder.  As we made our way down the steps for breakfast, there was Dad, sitting at the bar about to pour his bowl of Special K cereal. 
Dad instructed us to get our bowls for an important lesson.  He moved to the other side of the counter to face us.  We sat and listened as he carefully explained and demonstrated the process of achieving optimum milk coverage in our cereal.  It went something like this:
1.   Be sure to pour just the right amount of milk.  Start with less than you think and check the line at the bottom of the bowl.  Adding more is a lot easier than having to drink overage with the spoon.
2.   Immediately begin churning the flakes from the bottom up with your spoon.  Turn the bowl counter-clockwise with the other hand at the same time.  (At first it was kind of like patting your head and rubbing your stomach, but we quickly got the hang of it.  It really is the best method.)
3.   Repeat the synchronized process described in step 2 until all flakes are properly coated.
4.   Dig in immediately to avoid soggy flakes.
I use this technique every time I eat cereal, which is nearly every day, sometimes even for dinner.
More important than the effect it had on my lifelong cereal consumption, though, is the fond memories it created between us.  My brother and I will always carry the story with us and smile when we think of it. 
Dad saw an opportunity to teach us something that day.  He won’t say whether it was planned or spontaneous, but either way it had a lasting impression. 
As parents we don’t know when those opportunities will present themselves.  I only hope I can teach Alex things that she remembers fondly when she is an adult.