Broken antiques, fictional heroes and orally-administered heart attacks… But at least they have a good football tea… Ooooohhhhhhhh, too soon?

(Apparently, the Sauce Boss has wandered off the reservation again. We sincerely apologize to any Philadelphians out there…and anyone else reading this, really.)

But I have watched my share of the classics so I consider myself more-than-adequately qualified. Like any good Generation X-er growing up in Cold War-era America*, I learned all I needed to know about the laissez-faire mechanics of a self-regulating market and the subtle nuance of economic liberalism from the incomparably rich educational cinema of the time…

*Composite sketch of average Generation X-er growing up in Cold War-era America

Yes, like the legendary Billy Ray Valentine and Louis Winthorpe before me, I too was a disciple of the immortal Philly-based Randolph and Mortimer Duke and their theatrical ilk, and it is in honor of these mercurial titans of enterprise that I present the following Ode to Capitalism… Also, bacon.

You see, as the Dukes would have you understand, American infrastructure was built not on the smokescreen of “hard work and ingenuity” but rather on the commodity futures market – more specifically, the twin pillars of pork bellies and frozen concentrated orange juice. In this time of gentle reflection, with the new year still so tenderly upon us and its potential so limitless…and stuff…this got me to thinking. And that, as always, got me to cooking.

Pictured: the high-stakes commodities market, circa 1984… It was a dark and barbaric time

Orange-Habanero Thick Cut Bacon

1 pound thick cut bacon

3 1/2 tbsp dark brown sugar

3 tbsp orange juice concentrate (if you don’t use frozen then you’re just not paying attention)

1/4 orange habanero (or 1/2 if, you know, you grow a pair)

Space bacon strips on a cooling rack that is set on a parchment paper-lined cookie sheet and place in a pre-heated 400 degree oven for 15 minutes, until the fat begins to render. This would also be a great time to whip out the mortar, pestle and remaining ingredients to make our glaze. If you’ve got an aggressive friend nearby (or hostility issues of your own – dude, I don’t judge…we all hate daddy sometimes), this is a great task to pawn off on them. Mashing the fiery little botanical hellspawn into a pulpy oblivion = BEST. CATHARSIS. EVER.

After you pulverize the habanero, mix in the orange juice and brown sugar until dissolved. Adding the orange juice before mashing would lead to a lot of splashing and nobody is going to feel sorry for you because you’re a damn idiot. Trust me, I know…

Don't be a damn hero - mashed habanero and citrus juice can BURN. Protect your hands………and face.

After your 15 minutes are up (rethink the Andy Warhol wisecracks – I have a handful of habanero juice and a pretty good arm), glaze the bacon on one side and cook for another 8 minutes. Then flip, glaze the other side and cook for a final 8 minutes.

*BOOM* — I have just made bacon better. You’re welcome.

Now I ask you, what is the true future of pork bellies and F.C.O.J.? Not to be immodest (more than usual, I mean), but I’m pretty sure the Duke Brothers would not have been so eager to sell, sell, SELL if they had seen this coming.

In fact, I’ll even bet you………………..……one dollar.

I know what you’re thinking…

…and, honestly, I’m flattered. But no. What we’re talking about is one of my new favorite ways to administer a cultured caffeine jolt: Thai Iced Coffee, served with my own unique twist (because that’s how I roll…you’ll get used to it).

Notice how they look like adorable little grenades? Yeah, not entirely coincidental... Be afraid.

Ladies…Gentlemen…These are cardamom pods, the dried seed-bearing fruit from a close relative of  the lovable ginger plant and one of the more intimidating weapons in the spice rack arsenal. Aim straight & hit your target and you’re a hero…the envy of men and instant target of affection for women everywhere (or vice-versa, of course). But overshoot the mark and the spicy-sweet camphor can run rampant through dishes and desserts, beating every other flavor element into submission.

And that is why we, my friends, are going to tread very lightly… Cardamom can smell fear (this is, of course, purely undocumented).

Thai Iced Coffee with Ginger-Coconut Milk
•    6 tbsp of freshly-ground dark roast coffee
•    3 green cardamom pods
•    1″ chunk of fresh ginger, peeled
•    4-6 Thai basil leaves (and additional sprigs for garnish)
•    3/4 cup sweetened condensed milk
•    1 cup coconut milk
•    4 1/2 cups water
•    crushed ice
Traditionally brewed with an intriguing blend specific to Southeast Asia, containing roasted corn and sesame seeds, this exotic refresher is equally amazing with just about any dark roast style so play around and find your favorite. Personally, I like a bit of chicory in my blend but far be it from me to start a java war here.

...damn.

Break up the cardamom pods and seeds by pulsing for a few seconds in a spice or coffee grinder and mix with the coffee prior to brewing. As a general rule, for this drink you will want a stronger, more concentrated brew than your basic Caffè Americano since the coffee will have to hold its own against the sweet condensed milk and coconut milk infusion.  Let the brew cool and refrigerate until it’s thoroughly chilled.

Drop your ginger and bruised basil leaves into the coconut milk and barely bring to a simmer over medium heat. Let this steep for 10 to 15 minutes before straining the infused milk into a container to finish cooling.

To get that layered effect when serving, start with three tablespoons of condensed milk in the bottom of each glass before adding crushed ice. I hear the boos and hisses from the particularly health-conscious out there but I can assure you that sweetened condensed milk is key to genuine Thai or Vietnamese iced coffee.

mmmmmmmm...authenticity.

Gently pour six to eight ounces of coffee over the ice, leaving an inch or so at the top of each glass.

Garnish with a sprig of Thai basil and finish off with a couple splashes of ginger-coconut milk.

Granted, the shackles were figurative and the light of day idiomatic but I could not deny the vastness of potential quite literally at my fingertips.

In the stoic style of warrior poets before me, I couldn’t help but think, “if the pen is mightier than the sword, then surely the self-indulgent blog is mightier than the finest damascus steel.” As one who thrives on sharing my own experiences every bit as much as I live to learn from those of others, the possibilities are truly beyond limit.

Still, true damascus steel… To this day, I’ve never owned a damascus knife…and it IS the holiday season (German-forged…with 8″ European-style, laser-etched 22-degree cutting blade…and a sweet “SB” monogram…oh my god, I’d look SO hot…)…

$1,695.00 at Williams-Sonoma...I'm sort of already registered.........I Love You.

I accepted the opportunity with a gleeful skip in my step, ferociously embracing the chance to learn so much about the craft and myself along the way – and it certainly wasn’t long before the whole thing paid off with Epiphany Number One.

You see, there comes a time in the tender young life of many a burgeoning foodie where you come face to face with a rather startling, ages-old realization. Perhaps you have experienced a similarly blinding moment of enlightenment in your own past, though yours likely came long before mine. In typically dramatic Sauce Boss fashion, I was a late bloomer – but, hey, I did bloom.

I was barely into my personal pre-blog Dionysian ritual – jazz wailing, java percolating, lava lamp flowing – when it struck me. I had spent years laboring, toiling even, under the misguided and illusory burden that I was an obnoxiously picky eater when that was never the case at all. Turns out, I was always just a snob!!  It’s not that I only appreciated food in a limited capacity. No, quite the contrary. The fact was I savored the subtleties of food so much that when I disliked something, I disliked it with an unholy magnification.

My heart practically sang as I dropped to my knees and basked in the glorious illumination of the newly-opened heavens; a high voltage hum of utter relief tinging the air around me like a cacophonous choir.

RE-ENACTMENT:

Not pictured: Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy'

Well…that’s how I remember it, anyway. It was a couple days ago. The core point, however, is simple: good food does not have to be fancy, though fancy food can, indeed, be amazing. What makes a meal superb and memorable are the elements that go into it; the ingredients, the attention, the process and the execution. With those weapons in the arsenal, a raging lack of natural talent can be readily overcome. A perfectly-cooked slab of quality 80/20 chuck on the right toasted bun can stop the show every bit as effectively as the most intricate offering. But therein lies the problem – who puts the time and paranoid effort into a “basic” burger anymore? Well I do, and you should too, but that’s a topic for another lecture…oops, entry.

My [long-overdue] point? When we come to tolerate mediocrity as an elemental component of a meal…when we routinely “phone it in” due to laziness, disinterest or a general lack of confidence…then it becomes increasingly difficult to get excited about food on any deeper level. Rather than fighting this pattern and demanding better, many of us slouch our shoulders in defeatist acceptance and begin to migrate toward those foods that suffer the least from this self-imposed mediocrity – flagrantly selling out our taste buds to the lowest bidder in a gustatory race to the bottom…I’m looking at you, fast food joints and boxed mac & cheese.  In such an apocalyptic nightmare, how can the palate become anything other than a jaded, disenchanted wanderer, increasingly reliant on a decreasingly broad selection of culinary preferences which it can still consider relative safe havens?

Still, accepting that as an end result is a cop-out…and The Sauce Boss doesn’t do cop-outs.  Cooking is, above all else, an art…and what is more exciting than re-discovering a lost one?  There is no dish too modest to impress if you really want it to, and every dish is worthy of a re-visit. Let’s just call that Epiphany Number Two.

So the next time you cross paths with a misjudged pariah or some lonely soul brandishing the tell-tale sunken gaze of a castigated “picky eater,” reach out with a warm smile and an understanding handshake… Heck, give them a big hug (unless you don’t know them, but that sort of thing’s really got to go without saying… Seriously, don’t repeat my painful mistake… I blame myself, really)

What we can tell you is who The Sauce Boss is not: he did not shoot J.R. and our research verifies he did not kill Laura Palmer. To our British brethren still in search of the Stig, we can offer no answers… The Sauce Boss has never toasted Poe and, despite the rumors, he is definitely NOT The Batman. We can even confirm that he was never sent to prison by a military tribunal for a crime he didn’t commit and was never a “guest” at theBastille, despite sharing fashion sensibilities with one of its most famous and infamous former residents.

Artist’s Rendering:

That said, The Sauce Boss is a flawed perfectionist, a solitary amalgamation…a contradiction in the truest sense of the word. But then, isn’t that precisely what lies at the heart of every aspiring cook – an internal need to master the universal skills, delicately balanced with a reckless compulsion to recombine the infinite palate of flavors into something new, something that puts their own small mark on the culinary pantheon?

“Boss” is driven by one delightfully rhetorical question: do those who eat merely for sustenance ever fully appreciate the vastness of experience they leave on the proverbial table? It is said that man cannot live by bread alone but, more important, why on earth would he want to? If a phenomenal meal breathes life not only into an event but into the people attending then should every dish not be infused with a passion and sense of edible adventure that honors both the chef and the ones served?

The Sauce Boss believes that food need not be the stable, innocuous bedrock on which we build pedestrian memories and bland conversation. Food can (indeed, often should) be seismic shifting ground that brings strangers together, forges unlikely friendships and makes folk heroes out of culinary mortals.

…Obviously, The Sauce Boss can be a bit of a drama queen and for that we apologize.

Still, his obsession is lovable, his perspective unique, his wit somewhat skewed and his abuse of ellipses rampant…and with that in mind, we make our introduction…

Sauce Boss, the World… The World, Sauce Boss…