Category Archives: Rant

The Martes Chronicles: A Word From The Editor…

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Publisher & Editor-In-Chief J. Simon Price in a quiet moment.

This is easily the least favorite part of my job. Not the sitting down at my keyboard and typing. That’s the fun part. No, this is the part where I glumly apologize for the lack of content over the past few months(!) and fill you, the readers, head with false hopes and empty promises. Save for a couple of fantastic podcasts, there’s been very little content in 2012, and as Publisher and Editor of this critically acclaimed blog, I have only myself to blame.

I’ve been deliberately vague about the personal and medical drama I’ve been dealing with for the last year. Anyone who reads our regular articles or listens to the podcast might be somewhat familiar with the life-changing bullshit I’ve had to endure. They may also not be. It’s only important because I don’t have a crack staff of assistant-editors and food bloggers to pick up the slack for me when everything goes to hell for me.
I’d like to some day, but for the moment it’s just General BBQ, myself and the reanimated corpse of Jawn Fulla running this thing, and it’s safe to say they’ve got their hands full with plenty of things beyond mocking Minnesotans and sarcastic taco recipes.

Hamburguesa co Huevo

How did I lose 40 lbs eating food like this?

It’s not like I haven’t been cooking (just not eating). I’ve been cooking up a storm for myself and friends all throughout the last year, always taking multiple pictures of the process and final results with the intent of posting them into articles. Up until a little over a month ago; I was splitting my work schedule between (at least) two jobs and spending what little remaining energy I had on cooking at home. That left me with zero energy to take care of the (admittedly not difficult) task of hammering out a few snarky paragraphs  and uploading those pics onto WordPress.

And, you know, depression and stuff.

Happily; I’ve steered my life into some semblance of order. At least enough that I can manage to crank out a couple of articles every week without going completely nuts.
It’s good for me to write for this blog. It keeps me sharp. It doesn’t hurt that some people think I’m a pretty good writer (mostly my mom). If I ever want to make this a thing I do full time; it’s going to require that I do it consistently and for free for a long time before anyone ever decides to pay me for it.

So consider this a soft re-opening for The Reducer Network. Tuesdays will once again have a regular post unless we tweet otherwise. Other semi-regular articles will follow and possibly even another regular column on Thursdays or early Fridays.
We’ll continue putting out our acclaimed podcast (NOW AVAILABLE ON iTUNES!), most likely once a month, but we’ll also have minicasts and video segments posted more and more regularly as we get into the rhythm of it.

So you can learn stuff like this.

Again, this is a small operation, and in order to expand our audience, we’re going to have to push the content to the point where we’re posting multiple times a day, five days a week. While we all have day jobs, this is pretty much impossible. But when I founded this site I always had the intention that we would recruit anyone who wanted to submit any content pertaining to food and drink; especially if it was different then what Brian and I were putting on the page. This is a Network, after all, and was never meant to be a 24-hour Texas and dick joke slurpfest.
I’d like to think that there’s somebody out there reading this that posts pictures of their breakfast on Instagram and writes about meals they ate on Facebook. You’re already food blogging. Perhaps you’d like a platform to disseminate your various culinary passions without dealing with the considerable daily upkeep that even running a simple blog requires. Especially once you start pulling in readers.

Who’s going to cover gay cakes for us? Not Fulla.

Consider that an open invitation to anyone looking to dabble in food blogging without having to do much more than take pictures and/or write.

In the meantime follow us on Twitter and Facebook, keep coming back every Tuesday for actual food-related columns, and (re)enjoy these classic recipes and articles that should give you johnny-come-lately’s a taste of what we’re all about.

-Headchef

A recipe for Menudo

Rice Pilaf made interesting

A seafood stew that seems to exist everywhere

Food Porn

An argument for hot summer soups 

A cruel excoriation of the “Walk-a-Taco”

How to stir-fry noodles like you know what you’re doing

A curry recipe that any idiot can do

Jerusalem Mixed Grill is not grilled

And, of course, The Greatest Episode of the Podcast we ever did.

 

 

 

 

The Martes Chronicles: What We Did Last Summer (Part One)

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Ow-ah skyline is gritty-ah than you-ah skyline!

I don’t have a tremendous amount of love for the state commonwealth of Massachusetts.
I have family there; I’ve lived there; I’ve even been thrown out of a couple schools there. But like Homer Simpson in New York, bad things always seem to happen to me in Massachusetts, and Boston in particular.

Oh, excuse me, I meant Baaaahs-tan. Sacred centah of facking REDSAWX WELKAH NATION! THE TAAAAWN OF FIGHTAHS!

Boston brings up a lot of mixed feelings for me. For the most part it’s a lovely city. Beautiful neighborhoods, nice restaurants and a rich connection to American history make it a town worth seeing at least once. On the other hand; Boston is pretty much what you get when you take New York City; remove most of its ethnic diversity and replace it with clones of Frasier Crane and THIS guy:

WEEEEEELKAAAAAAAAAH!

Boston is a town with an inferiority complex so deeply woven into its cultural tapestry that they make Chicagoans seem slightly less provincial. For a city that rubs its connection to the American Revolution in everybody’s face, they certainly seem to have less of a problem with draconian tax policy, political corruption and social engineering than they had 200+ years ago.This is also a city that prides itself on the loyalty of their “die-haaaahd” sports fans, and yes, their beisbol fans are very serious, possibly the most vocal in the country, but their run of championships in all the major professional sports leagues over the last decade has dimmed memories a bit.

It used to be Red Sawx and Celtics and nothing else and HOLY CRAP WE HAVE A FOOTBAAAHL TEAM! AND THEY’VE WON THREE SUPAAAAH BOWLS!

I know this because when I lived and visited Massachusetts frequently in the mid-nineties, all their teams sucked, with the perpetual-bridesmaid Sawx being the only show in town. When I visited for the first time in over a decade this last summer; I saw an awful lot of pristine Bruins jerseys and Pats throwbacks with the tag still on them.

Rockport, MA

We didn’t spend all our time in Beantown. Mostly we explored some of the seaside towns north of the big city: Salem, Gloucester and Rockport. We saw our share of “quaint” and “distinctive” villages, salty locals in Sawx hats and fishstick factories.

Gorton's Fishtick Factory: Gloucester, MA

In all seriousness; it was nicer than I expected it to be. The setting is beautiful (and I don’t even like the ocean that much), the people seem to be genuinely friendly and the food is pretty damn good. If you’re like me, however, and you don’t eat shellfish, you’re going to run into some problems finding something on a menu that won’t incite anaphylaxis/anger your sky-deity.

Haddock: f***ing get used to it.

Interestingly; Massachusetts state law requires sufferers of shellfish allergies to identify themselves to the server and for management to speak with the customer on the subject. At nearly every sit-down restaurant we went to I would have a brief interview with either a floor manager or chef on the severity of my allergy, and they would suggest whichever Haddock dish I could order off the menu. The one time I was shy about it and just decided to order whatever looked safe without alerting the waiter was the only night I had a reaction.

I normally disagree with states micromanaging the restaurant business, but in a state where even the ice in your drink has lobster in it, it’s not the worst idea.

Pictured: A Gloucester Sno-Cone

One thing Massachusetts has on everywhere else is the ubiquity of Dunkin Donuts.

FACKIN DUNKIN-NATION!

You know that Simpsons where Bart walks into the mall and every store is a Starbucks? You cannot walk 50 yards in any Massachusetts town without passing a Dunkin Donuts. This is not a complaint. I miss my Dunkin; they don’t have it anywhere near me; it’s a real treat and their coffee is underrated. It is a little weird how they changed the name of the airport in Boston from Logan to Dunkin, but I suppose that’s better than FACKIN LARRY-LEGEND-WOODHEAD-WELKAH-DUNKIN-PEDROYAH International Airport.

The joke is that they don't think through names very well.

Then there was the fishing.
I’m not a big fisherman, but when given the opportunity to get up at the crack of dawn with a stomach full of Dunkin and do some ocean fishing, I jumped at it. I never caught a thing, shlimazel that I am, but two members of my party each a caught 30″+ stripped bass that they kept, and two huge bluefish they threw back.

The freshest sashimi you'll ever eat.

Beautifully; the guys running the boat were happy to butcher the fish on the ride back to port (for a small portion of the catch). At one point they had to tend to boat-business, so my cousin (who took us on this trip in the first place) finished the job for them, rinsing the freshly cut pieces in the ocean water and handing them off for us to eat.

How the sausage is made...

It was easily the freshest fish I’d ever eaten. When we came ashore we headed straight for the grocery store to pick up a few components to dress up our catch.
Here’s a selection of what I whipped up for everybody:

Stripped Bass Sashimi

  • Wrap your fish steak in plastic wrap and put in freezer for 15 minutes.
  • Remove from freezer. Slice thinly with sharp knife against the grain.
  • Serve with shoyu and wasabi.

Stripped Bass Crudo

  • Wrap your fish steak in plastic wrap and put in freezer for 15 minutes.
  • Remove from freezer. Slice thickly (roughly 1″) with sharp knife against the grain.
  • Dress with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper.

 

  • Stripped Bass Poke
    • Cut fish into bite size cubes.
    • Dress with shoyu, rice vinegar, sesame oil and scallions to taste.
    • Because this isn’t real Hawaiian Poke- be sure to pronounce it the way they do in Massachusetts- as if it’s something you do on Facebook.

    Stripped Bass Ceviche

    • Cut fish into slightly larger than bite size cubes.
    • Add some sliced purple onion, some chopped cilantro, a little chopped jalapeno, salt & pepper and enough lime juice to cover the whole mixture.
    • Marinate in the lime juice for a minimum of 45 minutes.
    • Serve with chopped avocados and corn nuts/parched corn.

Last breakfast in Rockport

So that was it. Just a few days out east and then back to the Midwest where a massive heatwave was waiting for us. Next week here at Reducer: Miami.

In Massachusetts: only Kennedys are allowed to play football on the beach.

Durian Fruit: Let it up in your guts.

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Hey Reducers.

It’s your old pal, the General. I know, I haven’t been around much, and I’m sure your mom and her new boyfriend may have said some pretty nasty things about me, but you need to know that I love you very much, and only want the best for you…and your Mom’s new boyfriend gave her warts. The down-stairs kind.

Now, what brings me around again? I’m so glad you hypothetically asked. Is it the “Red Vine Suicide Diary” I mentioned in the last season of the podcast? An editorial on the inexplicable appearance of a very decent micro-gastro-pub that appeared in my goat-fart hometown? Is it the answer to what’s in the cooler the asian guy carries around in Crank 2: High voltage? No, my children, it’s better than all of those things smothered in hash oil and rolled between a bag of money and a bag of bloody cast-of-Jersey-Shore-remains.

I’m here to introduce you to a very good friend of mine, Durian.

You may have heard of Durian, as it has a pretty spotty reputation. It’s smell is politely described as “pungent”, and it’s flavor doesn’t seem to want to sit still in one category. In fact, these (usually) little guys are a bitch to hold with bare hands for more than a few moments, as they’re covered in stiff, sharp little spikes that defy you to even come near it, let alone eat it. In fact, In southeast Asia, where they are native, it isn’t unusual to see nets under the trees where they grow, because if you are unfortunate enough to be under the tree when one of these delicacies falls, it could very well fucking kill you.

Before we go any further, let me best try to describe how it tastes to me. You know when you meet someone, and maybe you have a few drinks and end up at their house after hours? Maybe you even have such a good time you both call in sick the next day, and spend that time “playing in the sheets”. You have so much fun, you call in a second-day, exhausting the last of your cigarettes, booze, drugs, and reproductive fluids. Now it’s time to find your clothes and what-have -you, and get ready to return to the outside world of nurishment and hygene…but before you go, as an act of appreciation and fondness, you decide to take one more mouth-stroll downtown, and it’s not exactly dirty, but it’s fucking miles from clean. That flavor, boys and girls, is my closest association to the flavor of this thing.

Now for those of you who are saying “General, you’re not exactly selling this to me. I mean, is that supposed to be a good flavor?” and I say, with a patronizing pat on your head, “Never mind, dear, now go get yourself a nice Granny Smith.” For my fellow humans with a sense of adventure, here’s a couple of perspectives on the flavor, from food conasuers more notable than myself.

Andrew Zimmern- “completely rotten, mushy onions.”

"you see, Cathy, what I do is get someone to eat me whole, and puke me into this pile of dirty satin...me have sex now?"

If you want to see this anthropomorphic scrotum try it, FF to 7:30 in this link.

Anthony Bourdain- “Its taste can only be described as…indescribable, something you will either love or despise. …Your breath will smell as if you’d been French-kissing your dead grandmother.”

Happy Mothers' day.

Headchef, Reducer Network- “It’s like if an avocado and a mango screwed in a bowl of custard and didn’t clean up afterward.”

 

Pussy-eating extrordanaire.

Russel Wallace- The five cells are silky-white within, and are filled with a mass of firm, cream-coloured pulp, containing about three seeds each. This pulp is the edible part, and its consistence and flavour are indescribable. A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience. … as producing a food of the most exquisite flavour it is unsurpassed.”

All this being said, the peoples of Brunei, Indonesia and Malaysia seem to be getting a lot of mileage out of our funky little friend. They use it for everything from candy and custard to coffee and curry.

So, yes, it does look like some sort of foi gras abortion, and it may have an “aquired” taste, and yes, maybe doctors advise pregnant woman not to eat it, and maybe one or to philosophic types from the Phillipines warned that if it ever spread to the west, it would cause rape riots, and a mass explosion of mail-box fucking. It’s still an exotic treat, widely available in its’ native land, right? Yes, but even there, good luck trying to take it with you on the bus, or in any self-respecting establishment, for that matter.

Yep, it smells that bad to most people. If you don’t believe me, keep an eye on your local asian markets’ produce department the next time you swing through. They won’t always have it, but if they do, and you in no way resemble or relate to, say, this dumb cunt:

…then take yourself on a little trip around the world. They’re relatively cheap, and regardless of how you feel about it afterward, you’ll never forget the experience. In fact, I would venture to say that this seperates the “foodies” from the people who love to fucking EAT.

So, if you’re still trying to decide, just remember the old saying about all things strange and unfamiliar: put it deep inside you. ‘Night, ‘night. Daddy loves you.

Even this pussy likes it.

 

The Martes Chronicles: What’s So Hard About Eating a Taco?

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The small handful of you that follow us on Twitter or listen to the podcast might be familiar with my gripe about the “Walk-A-Taco“; a local food item currently being promoted at Target Field.

Despite being the product of Saint Paul’s iconic Latin market, El Burrito Mercado, the Walk-a-Taco is essentially everything that Americans get wrong with Mexican food compounded into a conical travesty of shredded lettuce and ground beef. The supreme wrongness of the concept, along with the condescending tone in which it’s marketed to Target Field patrons, reaches a level of stupidity so epic that my body is unable to produce the sarcasm necessary to express how much it bothers me.

I’ll try anyway.

Stupid Thing #1: The Concept.

According to El Burrito Mercado’s Tomas Silva; this conical abomination was created with the intention to “Make it so people could enjoy good Mexican food in an easier format”. I’ll get into how not-Mexican the actual contents are in a moment; but for now I want to focus on the forehead-slapping stupidity of the above statement.

An “easier format”. AN EASIER FORMAT?

Is there an easier cuisine on earth to eat than Mexican food? Were the people of Minnesota clamoring for an easier vehicle in which to deliver ground beef and onions into their mouths? Should we add “eating the world’s simplest street food” to the list of things Minnesotans can’t do, along with “navigate a four-way Stop sign” or “win a Super Bowl*”?

*Burn.

Being a non-native Minnesotan; I give the locals a lot of crap for being dumb; but always with the caveat that they’re mostly smart with a tendency to do dumb things. Sure they vote wrastlers and unemployed comedians to public office; but there’s plenty of good museums, theaters and schools to make up for it. They’re not Missouri or Oklahoma dumb, more like Massachusetts dumb.

But to take something like a taco, which is purpose built for holding in your hand while you eat it, and somehow find a way to dumb it down because “DURRRR! EATING TACOS MAKES MY BRAIN HURT!” drags this state to Mississippi-levels of dumbassery.

Look! Here’s a four year old eating a taco while standing up. Notice how he’s not crying for his mommy to show him how to do it. Notice how he’s not having any kind of aneurism due to the complex logistics involved in taco eating.

Now perhaps the Minnesota contingent reading this will argue; “But Headchef! Clearly this boy is some kind of child prodigy future rocket surgeon. Eating a taco while standing is not something that any idiot can do!”

I submit the following evidence to the contrary:

Pictured: Two idiots eating tacos while standing.

Stupid Thing #2: The Execution

A quick browsing of my iTunes library will demonstrate to anyone that I have a high tolerance, nay- a love, of lowbrow trash. One thing I am ruthlessly snobbish about, however, is Mexican food.

Growing up in the Southwest and California, having Mexican half-siblings and learning to cook from these family members instilled in me a deep and abiding love for authentic Mexican cuisine in all its variations. I dig Tex-Mex food as well, but I’ve known since I was about 6 that if your taco/tostada/burrito is covered in shredded lettuce, cheddar cheese and sour cream- then it ain’t really Mexican food, tasty as it may be.

That’s the other thing that infuriates me about the Walk-a-Taco; is that almost nothing about it bears any resemblance to a taco. Head down I35 to Laredo some time, purchase yourself a flak jacket and head across the border to get a taco.

If you order from a stand where Mexicans are eating; the first thing you’ll notice is that your tacos, in addition to costing roughly 12 cents each, look like this:

Lengua Taco

Lengua Taco on Home-made Tortilla

That’s some braised cow tongue on a handmade SOFT CORN tortilla, garnished simply with chopped onion and cilantro. If you want to go really crazy you can throw some salsa or a thin taqueria guacamole on there; but anything else is essentially gilding the lily.

The Walk-a-taco eschews simplicity, authenticity and good taste for the Midwestern standby of PILING ON THE CHEESE AND TOPPINGS!

First off- the whole thing is stuffed into a fried flour tortilla. This makes sense from a structural standpoint considering the mess of toppings within, but is a big fail in the nomenclature department, as the the fried flour shell would put it more in chimichanga territory than anything else.

Further investigation from this guy’s excellent review reveals the ugly truth: The Walk-a-taco is, in fact, less a taco than a taco salad. Apparently once you drop below the ground beef facade and into the tortilla itself; the contents are mostly shredded lettuce dressed in vinaigrette!

For those of you keeping score at home; the cumulative offenses of the Walk-a-Taco are as follows:

  • Fried flour tortilla
  • Ground beef
  • Shredded lettuce
  • Cheddar cheese
  • Sour cream
  • Chopped tomatoes
  • The perfunctory addition of jalapenos and cilantro
  • Motherfucking salad dressing

The most offensive detail comes courtesy of Josh’s review; that the Walk-a-Taco not only comes with a fork, but requires one in order to be eaten.

WHAT THE FUCK?

To review: The “taco” designed to make Mexican food “more accessible” and “easier to eat” is neither more accessible or easier to eat than an actual taco, nor is it remotely Mexican. The Walk-a-Taco is an absolute failure of concept, execution and delivery.

It’s a fucked-out boondoggle of a food item that could barely be eaten sitting on the couch in front of the TV; let alone at the ballpark it was intended to be eaten at. A cold seafood tower makes more sense as ballpark fare than this faux-Mexican abortion in a cone.

The most infuriating part is that if they really wanted to have a ballpark-ready Tex-Mex item that’s a portable mess of ground beef, cheese and sour cream; they could have simply used the one that already exists.

It’s called the Walking Taco. It’s a bag of corn chips (usually Fritos) cut open with a bunch of Tex-Mex toppings like chili and cheese dumped on top of them. They’re popular all over the Southwest at rodeos and football games, and while they do require a fork to eat, you can actually eat them while standing or walking.

I really wish I could have been present at the meeting where they decided an inedible mess of a taco salad served in a giant Bugle made more sense at Target Field than a Tex-Mex classic with practically the SAME FUCKING NAME.

No doubt they spent enough time watching the locals struggle with four way Stop signs and decided they didn’t want to risk customers suffocating themselves with the chip bag.

….

I went to Target Field for the third time this year and saw plenty of suckers carrying Walk-a-Tacos around. Not in their hands, mind you. No, they needed a cardboard stand to hold them in while they brought their shit-in-a-tortilla back to their seats.

Two days later I made flank steak tacos for a friend’s birthday; complete with handmade tortillas. We found ourselves outside on my porch watching the Aquatennial fireworks while we were eating. The view necessitated that we stand up while eating our tacos and, shockingly, no one broke their neck doing so.

Anyway; if you want to know how to make a taco that doesn’t suck; here’s the recipe for tacos de lengua. Try not to kill yourselves eating them.

 

 

The Martes Chronicles: 110° is Soup Weather

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Caldo de pollo

EDITOR’S NOTE: Martes Chronicles is Headchef’s new regular column, and can be found here at Reducer every Tuesday.

If you’re living in one of the 17+ states currently experiencing a brutal heatwave; you’ve probably noticed that it’s hot out, Bucky.

Dog-kicking hot*.

The last few days have featured the kind of heat and humidity that give Vietnam flashbacks to 8 year-olds, and fill the heads of adults and children alike with elaborate plans for refrigerator tents.

It’s uncomfortable at best, but some people are behaving as though this is the first time in recorded history that summer has been hot. Having spend the summers of my youth in New Mexico, Texas and Florida; the heatwave we’re experiencing in Minnesota lacks a certain novelty for me. Don’t get me wrong; it’s gross and I hate it and I wouldn’t recommend going out and playing soccer in it, but having toughed it out as a wheezing little kid, it’s not so tough as a wheezing adult.

In this kind of weather most people would rather be doing two-a-day football practices than spend any time cooking in a kitchen, so they go to restaurants to enjoy the air conditioning (a feature typically not installed in the kitchen where your food is being made). Even barbequing, a normally robust and favored activity, becomes dangerous when the heat index is pushing 115°.

People with working air conditioning don’t really have this problem. When you live in a perpetually-chilled wine cellar, not only does the heat outside not bother you, but you’re not subject to the hot-weather metabolism everyone else is experiencing. For example; if you’re out in the hot sun all day (or an ancient apartment building with no AC) and you can actually muster the energy to eat, you’re probably going to crave lighter fare like salads or pitchers of margaritas. Maybe you can stomach a hamburger if it’s late enough at night, but for the most part you and food maintain a tenuous distance during the hottest days of summer.

Not the privileged few living in the blast-chiller. People with AC are living in the future. Four months in the future, to be exact. Their bodies have been magically transported to November and so have their appetites. Air conditioning isn’t what jacks up your electricity in the summer; it’s the crockpot and bread machine you’ll have running at all times if you DO have AC. This is why people from Florida and Houston, where it’s 110° and humid all year round, are still so damn fat.

Head to a place with 100°+ weather and oppressive humidity where AC is a rare exception rather than the rule; and you’re pretty likely to find people eating hot soup in order to cool down. Pho, ramen, miso, matzoh ball, caldo- these are all perfect summer soups. I live on these soups during the summer.

In fact, if I don’t have hot soup for a meal at least once a week during the summer I tend to get really bad colds because I ride my bike in the city and inhale a lot of toxic shit. You ever ride your bike on a hot, dusty day and end up feeling like your palate is made of steel wool? Hot soup (especially spicy soups) will make you feel human again. Miso soup is particularly good for removing toxins related to air pollution, and a well-made bowl can be shockingly refreshing at the end of a hot day dodging traffic.

Caldo de Pollo, or Mexican chicken soup, is my favorite standby. Pretty much any Mexican broth-centric soup is good eating in this weather. Most of them are based on simple stocks offset with whatever is on hand. Many of them seem to work best as a breakfast, and if you’ve never experienced a huge bowl of Mexican soup for breakfast I highly recommend it. If you know where to look; there are plenty of small restaurants that specialize in it. Or you could make your own.

No pressure.

If you haven’t read my classic menudo recipe; you should check that out. If tripe and beef feet are a little too hardcore for you; here’s the puss-out method:

  • Throw four chicken thighs in a large pot with a quartered onion, ten cloves of garlic, two bay leaves and a few peppercorns. Fill with water and bring to a boil.
  • Once boiling, skim off scum from top of stock and reduce (ha!) heat to simmer. Let it bubble until it reduces by 1/4.
  • Cover a handfull of dried chiles in boiling water. Let sit for 20 minutes. Strain the chiles, reserving the water. Remove stems and seeds.
  • Puree the chillies in the chile water with a can of tomatoes.
  • Remove chicken thighs from stock and let them cool before removing bones.
  • Put the chicken along with the chile mixture into the stock with 1 tablespoon Mexican oregano. Bring to a boil.
  • Reduce to a simmer. Salt to taste.
  • Serve in large bowls with fried tortilla strips, avocado slices, chopped onion, chopped cilantro, wedges of lime. Fresh tortillas or Mexican bread are great for soaking up soup as well.

There you have it. It’s infinitely adaptable. I’ve made vegan and vegetarian versions of this. Experiment with it and see what you get.

Am I crazy, or does anyone else like soup in the summer?

*This is a Southern Expression. Reducer Network does not support kicking dogs.

BREAKING NEWS: Minnesota Government Shutdown Causes Horse Piss to be Pulled from Shelves

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This is what you get when you type "Shitty Beer" into Google image search.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Our long, dry off-season is almost over here at Reducer. Starting next week you can expect a regular column by Headchef every Tuesday, the second season of the Reducer Podcast, new recipes, news, travelogues, articles and a series of comedy podcasts that have nothing to do with food.  More on that later; here’s the news:

The portion of our readers who are Minnesota residents have probably noticed that the sun has been shining a little brighter, birdsongs have been a little sweeter and food generally tastes better since the state government shut down a couple weeks ago.

Further compounding this glorious event is the news that, due to a lapse in their licensing payments with the state, MillerCoors will no longer be able to sell any of their brands of shitty beer in Minnesota until the shutdown ends. According the the Star Tribune; liquor retailers must begin pulling all MillerCoors products from store shelves “imminently”; meaning that all their products could be unavailable for sale within a few days.

Here’s a list of the affected brands:

Blue Moon Pale Moon Belgian Style Pale Ale, Coors Banquet, Coors Light, Coors Light 3.2, Foster’s Lager Beer, Foster’s Premium Ale, Grolsch Amber Ale, Grolsch Blonde Lager, Grolsch Light Lager, Grolsch Premium Lager, Hamm’s, Hamm’s Genuine Draft Style, Hamm’s Special Light, Henry Weinhard’s Dark, Henry Weinhard’s Hefeweizen, Henry Weinhard’s Pale Ale, Henry Weinhard’s Private Reserve, Icehouse Beer, Keystone Light Beer 3.2, Killians Irish Red 3.2, MGD Light 64, Mickey’s Ice Ale, Mickey’s Malt Liquor, Miller Genuine Draft, Miller High Life 12/16 oz can, Miller High Life Ice, Miller High Life Light 12 oz can, Miller Lite 3.2%, Miller Lite Beer, Milwaukee’s Best #1 , Milwaukee’s Best Ice, Milwaukee’s Best Light #1 3.2, Molson Canadian, Molson Canadian Light, Molson Golden, Molson Ice, Molson XXX, Olde English 800 Malt Liquor, Sparks Light

Pictured: The demographic most affected by the ban

I’m sure there are plenty of tasteless alcoholics who will be heartbroken about this development, as well as a few hipsters who didn’t previously realize that their beloved “microbrew” was first developed in one of America’s shittiest ballparks by the corporate megalith that is Coors.

As someone who almost exclusively drinks beers made in either Mexico or Texas; this story doesn’t really affect me or my Pacifico-drinking wife. When discussing this story; General BBQ pointed out that many smaller liquor stores, especially in small towns and poor neighborhoods, will essentially have their stock decimated by this. Most sporting events and concerts around town will be reduced to serving Budweiser and… that’s about it, unless they already have a stockpile of local beers.

Oh yeah; many Minnesota bars, restaurants and convenience stores are running out of liquor and tobacco, as they can no longer renew their licenses to purchase the non-Coors items that are still legal.

Having one segment of distributors cut off from the state is one thing, but leaving the purveyors without the means to, well, purvey anything to customers is going to destroy a lot of small business in this state if the shutdown continues. I was in a downtown convenience store just today and they were already running short on cigarettes; a mere 14 days into the shutdown.

Strange how, despite the de facto lack of a state government, they can still find the time to infringe on the right to buy and sell. This is bad for everyone, even non-smokers and non-drinkers, as liquor is usually the main profit source for restaurants. If the shutdown is still in effect and you start to see your favorite steakhouse or sushi bar have a dwindling liquor supply; look out. That establishment may not be long for this world.

The only winner in this, besides Mormons, is of course the state of Wisconsin; which over time will be flooded with trembling, thirsty Minnesotans desperate for cartons of cigarettes, bottles of booze and restaurants that don’t resemble ghost towns.

If only there was some set of images that encapsulated the slow death of the state of Minnesota in contrast with Wisconsin’s increasing ascendancy.

Yup. That about does it.