Frites, Steak Implied


My daughter, Lucy, LOVES steak frites. Since we have our fair share of steaky, beefy yum at our hands, steak frites is a dish we are familiar with.

These babies were “mo-jo”-ed. Which means sliced in half and then cut into thick wedges. They were then smathered ( I know, not a word, but they were smothered and smacked ) with lard that was melted briefly in a small copper pot. Then in a high oven to bubble and crisp. I turned down after they were well on their way and got the steak going. While the steak rests, the chips finish up, get out of their lard bath and dust up all salty like.

And we eat. And we let steak juices meet frites fluff. And you dream of the cheese and cappuccino to follow.

Burgers with MoJo JoJo(s)


Burgers tonight. From lovely “88.”. She was a good cow. A fat cow that delivered yum-ness to our customers. I think we’re improving.


And MoJo Potatoes. Which are really potato wedges. Which are really MoJoes. I’m not even sure if it is MoJo’s or MoJoes. I don’t even care, but if you want to JoJo your MoJoes, you need special ‘erbs and spices.
And some duck fat.


I’m not a packaged food fan, but our friend Paul moved house from Paris to America and left behind some lovin’ chicken rub.


So I gave ‘er a go. Any packaged food that begins with “brown sugar” is sure to be a success with most humans.
But really, there’s no harm in sugar, turmeric, garlic powder and ( insert favorite pet spice here ).

And it was yummy.