“Brown shoes don´t make it.” (Frank Zappa)
One of the reasons I am not a great chef is, well, that I haven´t put in the years of hard training and education necessary to become a great chef. Another reason is that I truly, with all my heart, love brown food.
Photos: Geir Egil Bergjord
My first trip to Italy was an eye-opening revelation. I experienced food in a whole new way, without any fancy tricks. One of the first dishes I was served was pork loin stuffed with yellow peppers and spinach, slow roasted in the oven. Here is my version of the same dish, cooked on the grill.
Continue reading Flashback Fridays: It´s Pork Season. It´s Always Pork Season.
Some people´s worst fear is dying penniless: the kids and grandkids have to pay for their own schooling and it´s all your fault. I don´t really understand this. There is always a convenience store to rob or an old lady´s oversized purse to grab. If you are creative, cash can always be found.
Photos: Mette Randem
Quesadillas are simply tortillas (therefore “-dillas”) filled with cheese (therefore “queso”), but there are any number of twists used to “spice up” this wonderful dish. Today´s recipe is a favorite and was on the menu at my first restaurant – thirty years ago this year. We made the quesadillas in the kitchen, but they are even better hot off the grill.
Photo: Aina Hole
Some of the greatest dishes ever created 1) didn´t involve a chef, and 2) did involve the amazing combination of a few really good local ingredients, a severe lack of money and the amazing creativity of human beings (usually women).
Continue reading Pappa al Pomodoro does not mean Dad Was A Tomato
Do you have or have you earlier in life had small children? If so the following scenario should look vaguely familiar:
Potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, mashed potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, french fries, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, jasmine rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, lasagna, potatoes, basmati rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, rice, pasta, mashed potatoes, rice, pasta, potatoes, more rice, pasta, etc.
Photos: Geir Egil Bergjord
Today´s recipe is from my first book about grilling. The Norwegian title is “Far lukter svidd” (Gyldendal, 2002) which roughly translates to “Dad´s on Fire”. For me the title sums up the classic backyard grill seance gone horribly bad. The food world is notorious for its jaw-dropping lack of humor, so I felt obligated to find a title that would allow readers to multi-task: make some good food whilst smiling. Your average culigastronomophile probably won´t get it, but the rest of us do.
My Dad loved eating breakfast at a diner, and dinner at home, and he loved a small array of southern specialties. One of these was pimento cheese spread.
Continue reading Orange is the New Crack
To av sommerens kjekkeste aktiviteter er grilling og båtliv (og med båtliv følger selvfølgelig fisking og fangst av sjømat). Problemet er at mye av sjømaten vi har her i sjømats-paradiset, er på sitt beste om vinteren. Derfor er det naturlig at vi begynner å fiske og fange cirka et halvt år senere enn vanlig. Det som også er viktig er at mye av denne maten smaker best rett fra grillen. Så, istedenfor å bare grille i juni, juli og august, så må vi fortsette å grille rett gjennom høsten og vinteren for å få med oss favorittene torsk, kamskjell, sjøkreps og co.
Derfor vil jeg dele en liten grill-og-sjømat historie fra min bok “Grillkongen Craig” (Versal, 2006). Ha en fin Flashback Friday.
Continue reading Flashback Fridays: To sommeraktiviteter flyttes nå til vinteren
Have you ever been really cold? Like lots-of-minus-degrees cold? You finally come inside; the fireplace is blazing. You have removed the layers of coats and sweaters, scarves and gloves, and you are standing, hands outstretched, close to that roaring fireplace. At some point your body joyously responds and you feel that first shudder, head to toe, ridding your body of the chill and slowly introducing it to warmth.
