The Best Part, Better

Ask the Colonel what the best part of his secret recipe is, and he'll say the skin.  The best part of peking duck is the crispy skin.  The best temaki is made with salmon skin.  Hannibal found human skin to be useful for more than masks and lampshades--but variations on Filipino favorites as well.  It should be no surprise that skin is also the best part of the pig; especially when rendered, fried, and puffed.  

What makes pork skin better than all other skins, is that it can be bought without any pesky meat.  There's no skipping the butchering foreplay with chicken--and good luck with the salmon outside of Alaska.  Don't even bother trying with the sapien stuff.  Only pork skins can be bought directly, and every culture gives them a unique special treatment.

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Paralysis of Infinite Opportunity

Today is the first time in over a month where I have an empty agenda--the ideal lazy Sunday.  I can do whatever I want, in and out of the kitchen.  Now that I have this greatly longed for moment, I have no idea what to do.  I was caught up in the journey so much, that I don't know what to do with myself at the destination.  I didn't think that the opportunity to do anything could be so stressful.

Since it finally feels like summer in Chicago, I feel the need to cook skirt steak, and one of the best things to do with skirt steak is make a proper, authentic taco.  The problem with that, is that it isn't just Sunday, but lazy Sunday.  I don't have the energy to get a charcoal grill started, nor the desire to do any sort of clean up.  Also, I can't braise something again so soon without changing the name of the blog to said cooking technique.  I decide to roast pork necks, because after lining my baking sheet with foil, clean up won't be too bothersome.

Since I'm trying to stay out of the comfort zone, I pick up chipotles so I can make a salsa never before seen on DoS; queso fresco; and cilantro, which is probably what bacon would be if it were a plant, as it makes everything better.

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Back in the Kitchen

It's no big secret that I haven't been cooking much lately.  There is no grand single reason for this, just how life has played out.  I'm unable to cook when travelling, which makes falling into a slump of eating out more likely.  After an overly long hiatus, I'm back in the kitchen.

The toughest part of salvation is finding inspiration.  When infected with what I'll refer to as sloth-itis, not only do energy levels atrophy, but so does creative genius.  As I lay in bed, symptoms worsening, I find myself wrapped up in blankets.  Could it be another stage of my regression, or has someone mastered the use of their voodoo doll?

Before I'm totally lost in the cocoon, I think of how much I must resemble a human burrito.  Wait a minute, I can make a burrito or tortilla involved dish-- that's still cooking.  But what kind?  I only know one kind-- the Vietnamese tacos (Spike homage) that I've mentioned so many times but never really explained.  Indecision conquered.

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