These aren’t yo motha’s pork chops.
My hot girlfren, my lova–my grrl’s got ill cook skills like no otha.
Smotha’d in gravy, she got da budda’ milk biscuits cova’d,
no need for fancy introductory when you got deez chops,
just put ‘em on a plate, serve ‘em, and see ‘em feed speedily,
a smile on my face as I greedily ask for more sauce.
She takes a seat next to me, we speak easily, I feast needily like food’s free in Eataly,
I don’t wipe my mouth neatily because my name is Vinnie Vitale.
There may be s’motha recipes–but is they guaranteed to be as good as thee?
I’m thinkin’ not, I’ve had lots,
The cream of da crop, everything on top,
I’m tellin’ you just stop, ain’t nobody messing wit deez chops,
From Ina to in a slow cook pot,
My girl’s got otha’s vyin’ for her spot
like traffic in city streets: gridlocked.
Word on the street’s ya all serve pig slop,
No please, your recipes is weak, even your pops,
Someone better call the cops, I think I just heard a knock
at the door they’re asking for more, and I’m gonna give the 4-4,
I’m talkin’ the whole score, to these pigs on this pork:
There ain’t nothin’ betta.
We’re talkin’ on a whole ‘notha level altogetha brotha,
betcha won’t getta betta chop from here to Molfetta,
whetha in Bologna or La Tupina,
getting some cuisine at a cantina with a girl named Katerina who lives in Argentina,
you got a cook from Catalina who makes a mean canellini bean pasta with pancetta,
you betta getta chef with a vendetta
cuz no matta what chedda ya got ta spread on Pacquaio Mayweatha,
ain’t nobody knockin’ out my chica, she is the numba one contender.
There’s no way ya gonna stop her, best ya do is defend her.
So read on to get yo cook on,
but when yo done be sure to get one
‘cuz they’ll be gone befo you can mutta:
“Pass me anotha.”
Woo! Spring has sprung! I’ve been waiting all winter for this day. It is finally here! Aaaaand… it’s snowing. Because of course it is—this whole fucking winter has been bipolar. One day you’re like, “Oh my god, it’s beautiful out!” The next it’s 14 degrees and you’re like, “Fuck everything. I’m leaving.”
On the bright side, when we’re snowed in my hot gf does what she does best: cooks. She started the evening by making some biscuits, a first time learning experience for her. I asked her if I should write about it.
“No–I don’t know what the hell I’m doing! I’ve never made biscuits before,” she exclaimed.
Chef’s Note: As a home cook without formal training there are items that intimidate me in the kitchen. Poached eggs were one. The first time I made them I was overjoyed. Biscuits are another. The measurements need to be precise–you can’t overmix. There is no room for error!
I grabbed my camera and started snapping photos of her kneading dough in her new apron. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her use a rolling pin. Our logo officially makes sense.
Amidst the photo shoot she requested that I dump some flour on the butcher block. Then she tossed her ball of dough on it and began cutting out individual circles with extreme focus and precision. Using a wine glass.
Chef’s Note: I checked to see what cookie cutters I have and found a Christmas tree, Frosty, and Santa – no circle. There was a minute where I contemplated running to the store to get one until I remembered it was snowing out. I never have a shortage of wine glasses though. Problem solved and money saved (we all know I never would have left the store with only 1 biscuit cutter…).
About 15 minutes later, she opened the oven and let out a cry of glee. “They’re biscuits!”
She bent over, picked up the tray and placed it on top of the stove, promptly removing her oven mitts. Then she grabbed a biscuit and gently pulled it apart, exposing all it’s flaky, buttery layers.
“Mmm,” she murmured, handing me a piece. I squealed like the Pillsburry Dough Boy. She poked me in the stomach and told me I’m only allowed one before dinner.
“What are you making for dinner?” I asked.
“Pork chops with gravy to go with the biscuits. I am making this recipe because I am mad about the weather,” she declared.
“How does this recipe apply to the weather?” I asked inquisitively.
“This is a winter comfort food meal, even though I intended to transition to healthier recipes this spring. I am making a comfort meal and I bought ice cream—because I am mad,” she stated.
“Oh… gotcha.” There’s no doubt, I’m furious about the pint of Haagen-Dazs Caramel Cone in the freezer right now. She rarely brings home ice cream for me, so this weather must be affecting her mentally to some degree.
Chef’s Note: All day I saw updates with beautiful flowers and spring meals, but when I walked outside and got hit in the face with blowing snow I really wondered if today could be our first day of spring. Has April Fools’ Day come early?
She stood in front of the stove tending to the pan. Right away, the scent of fried onions hit my nostrils. “What is that–scallions?” I asked, salivating.
“Oh right,” I replied smugly. “Isn’t that like the same thing?”
“No,” she quipped. “They’re both in the onion family, but scallions are smaller. Same idea: white bottom, green top, they grow in the ground.”
And are probably about 4 times the size if we’re going to get technical. All I know is whatever they are–onions, scallions, leeks—throw ’em in a damn frying pan and you’ve got olfactory bliss.
You’ve also got a tearful, burning sensation in your eyes the entire time you await your meal. I took a sip of my bourbon–might as well have a burning sensation in my chest too.
I reckon I’m a gonna’ enjoy this here dinner my hot ol’ lady is cookin’ me tonight.
Chef’s Note: Traditional Southern smothered pork chops contain white or vidalia onion, but I wanted to change it up a bit. Similar to white onions, leeks can be cooked slowly and caramelize well, so they worked well in this recipe. If I had used scallions they might have burned. These are also a winter vegetable so they worked with my theme: this meal was my tribute to a very long winter we’ve had on the East Coast. It was full of flavor and very comforting. I hope Mother Nature was satisfied and gives us some warm weather!