I’m about to write what happened with that fictional moonshine/vodka I was making but need to take care of a couple items first: Why I Cook The reason I do things like decide I’m going to remake our entire pantry with homemade staples is for moments like yesterday when I found myself traipsing through the woods with three of my children and a friend. We were stalking the wild alewife, sans any type of fishing gear besides our hands. Branches whacked faces, feet lost their foo
Mostly full disclosure: I didn’t remember to turn the pork belly after the first two days--so on Saturday (6th day of brining) I went into the garage to do so. I immediately stepped in something sticky-- a foot wide spill going from the bottom of the fridge to a pile of trash in the middle of the floor. The fancy Hefty 2.5-Gallon Jumbo Storage Slider I splurged on had leaked. There was about a ½ cup of liquid still in the bag, however, and the meat seemed fairly well coated.
On the polite cooking shows the judges say things like, “This is quite a wonderful presentation. The balance of flavors is sublime. However, you’ve been cut from this round of the competition due to a consistent lack of seasoning…” And on the less sensitive series, the domineering chef-god screams, “How many f-bleep-ing times do I have to bleep-ing tell you: season your God bleeped food. That’s it! Get out! You’re done! Finished!!!” Those bleeps, by the way, are from the TV s