"Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it." ~Unknown

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Pork Chops And Twice-Baked Potatoes

Here in Portland the sky will tell you it's June but Cy doesn't care. Tonight's meal will tell you it's January. It's actually May. Cy is making pork chops and as he is explaining to me why, I blurt out "I get it! Fully Loaded Twice Baked Potatoes!! Brilliant!" Is there a trademark button on this computer? We might as well copyright it now, it's already in caps.
What Cy really wanted to make for tonight was alligator, fried alligator. But, sadly, we didn't FedEx alligator steaks. Sad. Oh well, at least you don't have to FedEx gator steaks to make Cochon's baked potatoes. Cochon is a restaurant in the Big Easy that my brother happens to love, (I think I know where Cy's going to live when he grows up.)
Cy was just going to make an approximation of the potatoes when, on Wednesday, by some odd coincidence or perhaps by some clever plan, someone spotted a recipe for Fully Loaded Twice Baked Potatoes in the Real Cajun cookbook which is written by the chef at Cochon.
And so, after a day spent planting our garden and readying the taters in the oven, the cooking began. Slowly. Who knew watching your younger brother stir a stick of butter into the innards of 5 potatoes was so boring. Adding cayenne pepper: boring too. Watching him stir in cheddar cheese, scallions, sour cream: ooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Excuse me while I go drool in private for a moment. Ooooooooooooooohhh. And now he's putting it all back in the potato skins. I'm drooling again. Licking the bowl that Cy mixed it all in... "Mom, come pinch me. I think I'm dreaming."
And we haven't even started the pork chops yet.
We've started the pork chops now, Cy is rubbing the chops down and the smell of bacon is filling our house. The bacon is sizzling and the voice of Bruce Springsteen is pouring from the speakers hooked up to the family itouch. A friend's corgi is staring up at me, clearly she doesn't know that, "The bacon is on the other side of the kitchen , not my lap!" I don't think Scout, the Corgi, speaks English. "El tocino es en el otro lado de la cocina no es mi regazo!?" Ella no habla espaƱol. Oh well she's just a dog. And my mouth is just watering.
I can tell that was a good meal. You know that feeling you get after Thanksgiving dinner when you sit back in the chair to watch football, your relative sighs, and then falls face first into his mashed potatoes and gravy? That tired feeling is exactly what I'm talking about. The only remedy is settling into some Bob Marley. Especially when your sitting down and typing. I. Just. Want. To. Sleep...

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