This Late Summer Bubble AKA The Egg; Part 1

I don’t get to travel much. The last vacation I had was over two and a half years ago. So I think occasionally I create my own versions of vacations without actually going anywhere. More often than not these trips happen in late Summer. I think it’s because it recalls a time of sweltering heat, cicadas, fireflies, thunderstorms… The South. Tennessee Wiliams, sexy heat and malaise, secrets and debauchery. You know?

Well I’m in the middle of a doozy of something at present. I’m having a lot of fun. I’m staying up late. I’m sleeping late. I’m getting all of my work done. I’m seeing all of my friends. I’m making new friends.

But I’m not writing. And for this, I am frustrated.

I have so much to say. My brain is all swirly with ideas and thoughts. But I haven’t seemed to be able to put these thoughts to paper or, more accurately, computer. Much of my energy has been directed to my new roommate and, more importantly, friend, Maggie. We are having such fun hanging out at the house, cooking, watching trashy tv, going out to eat, going out to drink, shopping, sipping wine on the couch.  I have been sharing all those words and thoughts with her rather than with you. I guess we have been in this late Summer bubble, an at home vacation.

But I’m here now. And hopefully to stay.

I have been mulling over the egg for weeks, now. It began with deviled eggs. And Humpty Dumpty.

I know I have mentioned that I am quite accident prone. Who really knows why. Brandon thinks it’s because my feet are too small for my height. That’s sweet of him. I really don’t know what the reason is, but I suppose it’s somewhat irrelevant. Yes, I fall. But I always get back up. I knock into stuff. But I always heal. Lately I seem to be bonking into more stuff than usual. Bumps and bruises, but no breaks.

I’ve felt a bit like Humpty Dumpty. The egg-man that was irrevocably broken. But yet has lived, and will continue to live, for centuries in our lives.

Interestingly, "Humpty Dumpty" was also eighteenth-century reduplicative slang for a short and clumsy person. The riddle may depend on the assumption that, whereas a clumsy person falling off a wall might not be irreparably damaged, an egg would be. A deconstruction.

And another deconstruction of an egg concept: deviled eggs. We break the egg, or at least, its shell. The normally delicate, yet viscous insides become solid and strong, sliced in half and re-stuffed with its own yolk, reconstituted. It’s fascinating. The original form of the egg has vanished and become something else, something new entirely.

Not unlike Humpty Dumpty, broken. Shattered. But always remaining a whole egg again each time the story is repeated. And not unlike me falling down, bumping and bruising. I am re-alived and healed in no time. And not unlike this late Summer bubble, that will soon pop, but likely re-form, this time, next year in some new genesis.

Classic Southern Deviled Eggs

Makes 24

·  12 hard boiled eggs, peeled
·  1/4 cup Duke’s mayonnaise
·  2 teaspoons white wine vinegar
   2 tablespoons sweet pickle relish
·  2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
   Hungarian paprika
   Salt & pepper

Arrange the eggs in one layer in a saucepan. Pour in enough cold water to cover the eggs by at least 1 inch, and place the uncovered pan over high heat.

Time the eggs from the moment water boils and a few eggs begin to move around in pan. Reduce the heat to medium high. When the eggs have cooked for 10 minutes, turn off the heat and cover pan, let set for 10 minutes then cool the hot eggs by running plenty of cold water in pan, the egg will shrink slightly inside the shell, making them easier to shell. Let them cool for at least 20 minutes in pan with cold water before peeling.

Slice eggs in half lengthwise, and carefully remove yolks. Mash yolks with mayonnaise. Add relish, mustard, apple cider vinegar, a pinch of paprika, salt, and pepper; stir well. Spoon yolk mixture into egg whites. Garnish, with sprinkles of paprika.


31. Great Balls on Tires

Meat their balls.

My word. It has been a while, yes? Well, for your (and my own) food truck pleasure, I'm back with another rousing truckventure for you...

My buddy, Doug, lives across the street from the Frosted Cupcakery where, every Thursday, they host a food truck in their parking lot. D Smoov (he will be so happy I wrote that) emailed me this morning to let me know that a newbie, Great Balls on Tires, would be the truck du jour. Well, I do love me some word play. And balls. Of meat.  

And so it was. 

First off, this truck is hysterical. These guys have a sense of humor. Or, at least the kind I dig. This is good. They also had quite a long line. Which could be bad except I was feeling patient and, of course, I was happy about the support of the people for the truck.

Okay. Brass tacks. According to their website, “Great Balls of Tires, or G-BOT for short, was born from three friends’ love for all things edible. Founded by Clint Peralta, Michael Brombart and Sharron Barshishat, a Le Cordon Bleu School of Culinary Arts graduate, G-BOT serves meatballs and other savory balls of food.” It’s true, they’ve got various balls of meat, and non-meat, foodstuffs from across the globe:  Kobe beef balls on toasted brioche – the quintessential slider, Veal/Pork balls with a pancetta marinara – the Italian influence, Garam Masala chicken balls over saffron basmati rice – clearly the Indian presence, Korean BBQ, Vietnamese, hell, there is even a “Ballafel”. Prices range from $6.50 - $4.50 and most items come in twos (of course).

By the time Dougsworth and I arrived they had sold out of two three items on the menu (the tape was going up on number three as we got into the line), including the Sweet Balls ($3). So we ordered the Incrediball ($6.50): Ground Kobe beef/Applewood smoked bacon/Gruyere/wild arugula/garlic aioli/ toasted brioche and Ballywood ($5.50): Garam Masala chicken/coconut Madras curry/crispy fried onions/tomato chutney/cilantro chutney/saffron Basmati rice. We then scurried back to Sweet D’s place to indulge in our lunchaballs. Get it???

Um. I’ll be here all week.

The Ballywood was, quite simply put, exceptional. There was a swarm of colors, flavors and textures jumping around in my mouth, it remained fresh, light and a perfect portion. Those fried onions were a surprise and delight on the palate. Kudos to that dish and the ballers behind it.

The Incrediball was as good as it could be. The meat was a nice medium-rare, all of the elements involved bounced around together well, and the portions of the actual meat and the burgers were impressive. But at the end of the day, it’s another tasty slider. Simply put, not as inspired or innovative as our other dish. 

I liked this truck and its balls. Dougie D did as well. I think. He got distracted by computery world once the food was laid out. It must have been important as this lad likes his grub. But once he focused he housed his and a good deal of mine in about .37596 of a second. A decidedly good sign.

I guess I have to admit it: these guys have balls. But do they have truck nuts?