peevish mama

Last week I got an email from Chief Big Voice letting me know that he and Saucilicious made the short ribs and that they were WONDERFUL, that they are his new fave! Oh, joy! I simply cannot convey how much that warms the cockles of my heart. I know Chief Big Voice was more likely than the average bear to make the short ribs since he had eaten THE ORIGINAL SHORT RIBS that fateful night when he, Dash and I were all blown away by the mysterious alchemy of beef, savory liquids, time, heat and love. The fact remains, however, that so many lovely things needed to happen for me to get that email, to wit:

First of all, he had to go to the store, buy all his ingredients, come home, pull up my post, click on the link to the recipe and get down to the business of cooking. If I know Chief Big Voice, he didn’t follow the recipe exactly because he’s a little peevish about recipes too. He chopped and seared and made a gigantic mess of his kitchen and let the whole meaty business braise for hours upon hours, filling his house with delicious vapors. He let it cool over night, scraped off the layer of fat, re-warmed the ribs, made some sides, and Oh, Lordy, I could swoon, sat down to a beautiful and delicious meal with Saucilicious on a cold winter’s night in Pennsylvania. This is seriously almost, ALMOST as good as having sat down at the table with them and this vicarious pleasure is really what I have to settle for when my food peeps are spread all around the country. 

Second and more germanely, he had to read this blog. And this, my friends, is not something I can take for granted. The fact that anybody reads this blog is a source of wonder for me, but infinitely more so if you happen to own a penoose. I sort of understand why my lady friends might like to read, written out loud, what we’re all thinking and feeling. But the guys? I don’t know – it’s hugely gratifying to know that this place hasn’t become a parlour of motherhood, vaginas and sparkly things. Of pms, bitching and boots. Of poopy diapers, faux fur jackets and cookie recipes. Where am I going with this? Oh ya, I guess I am pleased I didn’t scare away any penooses. I guess I’m pleased to be more than a mommy blog, a lady blog. Maybe that’s peevish of me, but it’s true. 

So, thank you for reading, my brothers. It means the world to me. 

And as a token of my appreciation, I hereby bestow upon you my new obsession: red chimichurri sauce. It’s pungent and tangy and smoky and spicy and, dare I say it? MANLY. It’s meant for grilled meat, but let this lurk in your fridge long enough and you will discover what I did: it goes with anything meaty, cheesy, eggy, or fatty. In fact, right before I took this picture, I put a little in my bowl of chicken mushroom soup and it made it sooooo much better. The vinegariness just cuts through the fat and makes your plate sing and dance – it’s the Michael Jackson of sauces, only Thriller Michael, not pajamas and blazer Michael. This recipe is adapted from New World Kitchen by Norman Van Aken, which I’m told is a great cook book, but I wouldn’t know because this is the only thing I’ve made from it and probably the only thing I will make, which is fine because this sauce is more than well worth the price of the book.

So, as promised, Chief Big Voice, here it is. And for my brothers Golden and Maestro de Bife – this is going to kick your ass, hermanos, mark my words. Salt and Pepper Polymath, you will love and adore this and it just may send you bushwacking across the creek to give me a hug. Gear Daddy, Renaissance Man, Ivory Tickler, Ten Gallon and Pipes – you’ve had it, you’ve loved it, here’s the recipe, you’re welcome. Soul Daddy, this is right up your alley. Meester Panqueques, Tartare will fleeeep over this. San Flan, The Fox, Devious Knickers, Patriouk, Magnificent Bastard, Rip Van Techno, Irish Laddie and any other boys who may tune in from time to time, this one’s for you. Enjoy, fellas. I know you will.

Chimichurri Rojo Argentino

1/2 cup Spanish sherry vinegar

1/4 cup virgin olive oil

1.5 tablespoons hot paprika (I used regular Hungarian paprika, mixed with Spanish pimentón and a little extra cayenne, but if you can find the hot, go for it)

2 teaspoons cayenne pepper

4 cloves garlic, minced or crushed

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 teaspoon cumin powder

1 bay leaf, broken in half

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

xo peevish mama