sanchez star system

I will begin employing a three-star rating system for everything. Whether I have dinner at your house, get Afghani cuisine off a truck or microwave some Hot Pockets®, you can refer to this simple, easy-to follow guide. If you have a food, recipe, restaurant, food publication, celebrity chef or other food-related item you would like to have rated, please comment or e-mail thesanchezlsanchez@gmail.com.

One Star

This blows. Not only do I hate it, but I'm sure you will too. Root canals and Miley Cyrus concerts are preferable to one-star rated items. After assigning a one-star rating, I will think to myself, "Sanchez, why in the hell did you put that in your mouth?" or, "how completely wasted were you?" One star will not apply to items that do not match my taste level, rather it will apply to something universally bad. So for instance, being robbed by a hooker could be considered a one-star situation whereas belut, the fertilized duck egg popular in parts of Asia (from which I have almost vomited), would not qualify for one star since, well, someone likes it. Most of the one-star foods that come to mind came out of my own kitchen, though I'm not usually cruel enough to share these regrettable creations with anyone.

Two Stars

This offends me. It's not that I won't try it again, or even a lot, but my feeling about a two-star item is that there is something offensive about its existence. The perfect example of a two-star food is the frozen microwavable taquito. I'll be goddamned if I don't keep coming back to this item time and time again, but its irresistibility combined with its overall badness makes it offensive. (You can elevate the frozen microwavable taquito to three stars by preparing it in a deep frier, though this is true of most two-star foods.) Fast-food chains categorically qualify as two-star affairs as do hospital cafeterias, places where children are openly welcomed and establishments that do not serve alcohol. My appreciation for all things two-star should be shining through to you if you read this blog.

Three Stars

This does not offend me. The highest praise I can give, three stars mean that I can't find anything about this item that offends me. An otherwise delicious sandwich, grilled in butter with sourdough, cheese and sausage is not offensive unless you try to call it The New American Grilled Cheese. The proper application of butter or mayonaise can be the difference between two- and three-star ratings. Since, however, I am easily offended, three-star ratings are very rare.

Categories

I will also assign stars for relevant categories which may or may not apply in all circumstances. The most important categories are as follows:

Service: was your waiter sober, drunk or trashed (two, three and one star, respectively)?

Appearance: Did your frozen microwave burrito explode, stay intact, or thaw unevenly (two, three and one star, respectively)?

Tastiness: Did your hot dog taste like something, nothing or like shoe leather (Three, two and one star, respectively)?

Condiments: Did the restaurant provide only salt and pepper, many condiments by request, or have a full-on 60-item condiment buffet (one, two and three stars, respectively)?

Do yourself a favor and test out the S.S.S. tonight at dinner. You will see just how many offensive things litter otherwise enjoyable meals. Good luck!

a worthy opponent

I do not recommend trying to cook while drunk, but this sure makes it seem like fun!

I think we could be friends except that bottle did indeed not contain Champagne. Just saying.

america's favorite past time: overeating

There is a cult following for many foods, from the obscure to the ubiquitous. My cult celebrates our enjoyment for its foods on July 4th, US Independence Day. This is a day devoted to the appreciation of American foods without any complications or arguments about what constitutes "American." On this day the themes are specific and narrow: protein with pastry (hamburger, hot dog and corn dog), frozen dessert (popsicle, ice cream, shaved ice), salad featuring mayonaise and/or mustard (potato salad, macaroni salad), condiment (catsup, yellow mustard, mayonaise), fruit (watermelon) and vegetable (corn-on-the-cob). Other categories of dessert vary by region.

My day started at the community festival in the park.

I celebrated quite well on the 4th this year by starting early. Ate two bacon-wrapped hot dogs covered in grilled onions and peppers at 10:30 in the morning. These were huge hot dogs, so I had to use a method to get through them. I call this method the "Stuff it like Sanchez Method." While the result is speed, the desired outcome is large amounts consumed. The idea is that you pack it in quickly before you feel the discomfort of fullness, and there may indeed be nothing more American than that! Be focused; set a goal or better yet, start a timer. It will take your body 10-15 minutes to register that you have eaten too much, so set a timer at around 9 minutes tops, but to perfect this method challenge yourself to a 5-minute goal. I finished these very large, bacon-wrapped dogs, piled high with condiments in about four minutes.

Shortly after, I had an impossibly sweet 32oz. lemonade. I listened to a band play Souza marches intermingled with Lady Gaga's Pokerface and themes from George Lucas films. I imagined myself suddenly becoming so obese as to need an electric scooter to get from the Tea Party booth to the Park Manor Rehab balloon stand. I imagined having to keep track of a half dozen children who each want one of the six dozen distractions. I imagined being very old. I became the crowd.

After a long nap I had a huge burger with American cheese. I drank lots of beer until I could no longer stand. It was a great day.

the vegans are attacking

Hide your vegetables and soy-based meat substitutes, the vegans are attacking! Their weapons, judging looks and indignant comments like "Yeah, so I'm vegan." Lucky for you, they are not very well organized and tire easily for lack of calories.

Michael has several close friends who are practicing vegans. Generally, I enjoy their company because I never accept their invitations to dinner. When they stand next to Michael they make him look fat, which is funny. They know their way around obscure, delicious vegetables and often have pleasant-smelling breath. Here is a story about one of these vegans:

Cheap Date

If it was not for the plant-based nature of distilled, brewed and fermented beverages perhaps I would never have the chance to meet a vegan. I'd point to someone walking by, and I'd say, "Is that a vegan?" and someone would politely correct me, "Sanchez, I think she is a meth addict." My mistake. Luckily, alcoholic beverages are not distilled from beef (the very idea is untenable) and vegans seem happy to drink with me. Michael and I were drinking one night with our vegan friend Bradley. Bradley made the decision to go vegan years ago when he read some book he never stops talking about. We realized that we hadn't eaten, and a few friends ushered us into a nearby Italian restaurant. We promptly ordered more wine. Michael and I shared a carpaccio, pasta and something else. I can't remember. Michael and I were really digging the carpaccio and offered Bradley a bite. He declined my offer until I offered to pay for his dinner if he took one bite. Perhaps every vegan has a price, but that bite of carpaccio makes Bradley a cheap date.

Thank you to our friends at The Garden Vegan Cafe in Walla Walla for the unexpectedly delicious lunch. We wish you great success even though I'll still go across the street for my favorite pulled pork sandwich. Just being honest.

chili cheese dogs

So if you want to pick up someone, I don't recommend this tactic. The picker-up, a portly man of about 40 with thick glasses and an incurable lisp tried to pick up on my friend, who recently went to jail. This is how it went:

P.M.: Hey! How are you doing? Have we met? I'm Orlando.

Friend: We've met several times.

P.M.: You're looking good! Have you been working out?

(P.M. squeezes Friend's arm.)

Friend: No. I haven't.

P.M.: You haven't? Well have you been eating chili cheese dogs?

Friend: Um, no.

P.M.: Have you tried the chili cheese dogs at 7-11?

Friend: No.

P.M.: You haven't? They're my favorite chili cheese dogs! You should try them!

Friend: Okay.

P.M.: Call me some time and we'll go get chili cheese dogs at 7-11, okay? High five.

(The conversation ends awkwardly. Friend makes an excuse about needing a drink, which was probably the case.)

something fishy

Michael devoted previous posts to fish, but I feel compelled to continue the conversation. Please excuse the excessive use of simile in this post. Send your questions, comments or concerns to thesanchezlsanchez@gmail.com or stinking comment.

Fish is food. You can eat fish. Like the banana, which tastes banana-y, fish is fishy. Perhaps fishy is a poor term, since it has the unfortunate existence as a euphemism for something untrustworthy, but I stand by this statement: fish is fishy. Perhaps it's important to distinguish between good fishy and bad fishy. One is delicious and the other is suspicious. I'll let you guess which one is which.

I have heard many versions of this question, but here are two samples:

"I don't usually like fish. Do you think I will like this (insert fish dish)?"

"I don't like fish. Would you recommend the (insert fish dish)?"

It's like trying to find out the best way to kill yourself if you aren't suicidal. My response rarely goes beyond this:

"The (insert fish dish) is lovely. Perhaps you'd prefer the steak. Medium well?"

It's like trying to walk into a bear cave when you know you do not like getting mauled by bears. It's like asking someone to play your favorite song, but specifying that it should only be played at a low volume while somebody screams.

A rundown on the person who orders this way: not being sexist or racist, but she is a white woman of any age under, let's call it sixty. Her friends are foodies or are people who enjoy eating in nice restaurants. Everyone around her raves about how this or that is so great!, like the bouillabaisse or the brodetto or the (insert fish dish), and she feels left out for the lack of maturity or whatever-it-takes to like fish. She has had one or two great experiences with seafood, but it was not fish. It was most likely un-offensive shellfish like farm-raised shrimp or lobster (lots of butter!) or crab legs. Put the word "scampi" after anything she did like and you've got the right idea. Even when the (insert fish dish) is something as approachable and not-fish-like as fish can be such as halibut, I am still hesitant to serve her anything other than the steak.

I'm out of words to describe it, so I will quote another food writer, A. J. Liebling from Between Meals:

The reason that people who detest fish often tolerate sole is that sole doesn't taste very much like fish [...] They prefer processed cheese because it isn't cheesy, and synthetic vanilla because it isn't vanillary. They have made a triumph of the Delicious apple because it doesn't taste like an apple, and of the Golden Delicious because it doesn't taste like anything.

Conclusion: don't be afraid of taste, and more so, please don't require someone to recommend something you think you will not like. This is a requirement for the home cook, not for the food service professional, your very own drunk waiter.

a reason to sleep on the floor

I woke up on the floor this morning, under the dining room table. Don't worry, I was quite comfortable. The reason? I was making carnitas.

Start with an impossibly large pork shoulder (ten lbs. should do) and an even more impossibly large cast iron lidded vessel. (I stole mine from a rich person, between my legs and down some stairs. Try that!) Salt the "pork"out of it. It is best to start at room temp, but the huge shoulder I had was standing on it's last arm, so-to-speak, since it had been in my refrigerator thawing [read: forgotten about] for well over a week. Start at 1am. For the first hour, bake it with the fattiest side down at a nice high temperature like 450. After the hour is over you will begin to smell pork. If you don't smell pork, turn on the oven and start over, silly! If you were successful, turn your shoulder over and turn down the oven. Keep that oinker covered! Bake at 300 for 5 or 6 hours, or until someone wakes you up, or you start having back spasms from sleeping on the floor. The most important thing, beyond proper salting, is to sleep on the floor next to the oven. This is how I imagine everyone from my natal food legacy did it and so should I, and so should you. If something smells burn-y or the room fills with smoke or the house catches on fire, you have overslept. Run for your life. Otherwise, you have made carnitas. To check, poke a fork at your pork shoulder, which should shred easily. When you take your first poke and realize that you have "pulled" your pork, keep going. Don't slice or dice or cut. Pull!

Get some friends together and eat your carnitas with hands and mouths and teeth. Or, for bonus points, fill a warm corn tortilla with queso, crema, carnitas and pico de gallo, squeeze a lime over, and you will have a lovely carnitas taco. Carnitas are also perfect next to eggs (like bacon), on a sandwich (like bacon) or in pasta dishes (like bacon). If you intend to enjoy this great and versatile food with barbecue sauce, omit the step where you sleep on the floor.