Adventure Cuisine: Hash-Patty

Welcome, adventurer, to Adventure Cuisine! I'm going to teach you (by trial and error (mostly error)) how to cook some things that I made up because I was hungry and they sounded good. The adventurer never settles for the basic meal: The hamburger, the pancake, the duck's bill (probably a delicacy somewhere, I'm sure). No! The adventurer sees a recipe as a challenge to his or her ingenuity. A recipe says, "Why have an adventure when you could have something that has already been tested?" An adventurer says, "I'll take my beef adventurous, if you don't mind!" and dips it in an egg yolk batter then fries it and serves it on top of a cinnamon roll (AMERICA!).


With that preface to what the goal of Adventure Cuisine is, let's get to it.


First, let me note that "Hash-Patty" sounds like it's filled with drugs and that if anyone has a better name for this recipe, feel free to tell me so I can copyright it and make a ton of cash while you wallow in poverty.

The Workstation: An American Fire Hazard

The first step to making a Hash-Patty is deciding that what you really want is some hashbrowns. You buy a 10 lb. bag of potatoes (fully intending to use all ten pounds, though, as a bachelor you can only stomach so much of your own cooking) and grab the cheese grater from your roommate’s drawer, telling yourself you’ll wash it after using it.


You take one potato, wash some of the dirt from it and call it good, then grate it against the largest holes on the grater, nicking the tips of your fingers because you have some incessant need to use every piece of the potato (Note: if skin and blood mix in with the potato, no biggie. You're an adventurer, after all!). 


Once this is done, you do the next thing that pops into your mind, which is of course to coat the lump of potato shavings in flour, chili powder, and any other spices that look like they could taste good, maybe. This will make a sticky mass that you find you can mold into any shape.

Does it look like a lump of pig offal? You're doing it right!

Though you know this isn’t how hashbrowns should look, you forge ahead. In a skillet, dump some vegetable oil then turn the heat to somewhere around 350 degrees Fahrenheit--this is America and we don't use Celsius--(Remember: when you are finished with the skillet, don’t put it directly under water from the heat because it will make a loud noise and hot oil will explode onto your hand, leaving a good amount of blistering, and all your friends will think that you have leprosy or some other skin-eating condition that, by mere touch, will be transferred to them) and toss in the roughly patty-shaped mass. 

Does it look like sizzling pig offal? You're a champ!

Fry it until it is brown on both sides (five minutes and expect the inside to be crispy (though it won’t be, but the chewy center is perhaps the best surprise). Take the patty out of the oil and place it on a stack of paper towels in the hopes that doing so will somehow leech all the unhealthiness from the patty (Fun Fact: This is a good way to lose weight (if you lose weight by lying to yourself)!). 

Burned pig offal? Perfect!

Put a slice of pepper jack cheese on top and bite into the patty while it’s still far too hot. Deal with the consequences. Realize one year later that you never learned how to make hashbrowns.

And that was just the first try! Upon further experimentation, I concluded that cheese is always better when it's inside something instead of on top of it. So separate your patty into two halves and place a slice of pepperjack (or cheddar if you are a low-level adventurer) in between the halves.

Now that there's dairy, that's a nutritious meal!

This accomplishes two things: First, the cheese will melt as the patty cooks and create a gooey center (which is the goal with all foods except hard-boiled eggs and most meats (probably all meats)); and second, if you serve it to someone, the cheese acts as a hilarious molten sneak-attack that will spill all over their chin, burn their skin, and adhere itself firmly so that it will continue to burn until the victim scrapes it off. Again, hilarious!

Also, bacon. cook some bacon, chop it up, put it in the middle. Have I tried it?

Now I have!

When you fill the patty with cheese and bacon, it tends to get a little difficult to seal up, so you have to spend a good amount of time pressing the potato lump around the filling to create a protective shield, because you know that if the cheese touches the oil it will explode, start a fire, and leave you homeless, again.

Fire hazard avoided!

Next you think, "How could this possibly be more delicious/deadly?" Fry sauce is the correct answer. To make fry sauce, add equal parts ketchup, mayonnaise, and repressed regret. Stir the mixture until it is salmon-colored, delicious, or both (some people like more mayo, these people are going to die young).

Fun fact: Fry sauce doubles as a delicious pudding if you are disgusting!

The last step in creating this meal of meals is to put everything on your computer desk and eat it while you stare at the screen, realizing that you'll have to tell your readers about what you just ate. Guilt should set in at about the point that the patty reforms itself around your heart.

It sets in...Now

There you go, fellow adventurer! The perfect meal for the college-bound adventurer with nothing to lose.

Nutrition Facts:
-If you're looking for health facts, stop calling yourself an adventurer and go find some nice little health food blog and DIE.
-Did you know that you can buy a bag of edible, pre-cooked, pregnant crickets for under six bucks? What a steal! Find this and other edible (but not necessarily palatable) insects here.

Lastly, this was my soundtrack while I cooked:

Enjoy the Adventure (even if it kills you)!

Adventure Cuisine: Navajo Fry Bread (With a Dash of History!)

Prepare for a tasty (and informative) adventure, fellow adventurer!

A tasty treat for the culinary-minded adventurer is Navajo fry bread. When I was just a youngling, my mom would make it in the hopes that the grease would congeal in our bloodstream and slow us down. Believe me, fellow adventurer, it works!

The best part of making fry bread is the simplicity of it. The Navajo didn't have much, but as the stereotype goes, they used everything they had to its fullest extent. One of the reasons that the Navajo had so little was the rationing that the U.S. government subjected them to after herding them out of their ancestral lands by gunpoint. So sure, fry bread came from a dark time in American history. But the taste and the versatility of the bread make up for all that suffering!

Ooops! Guess I forgot to integrate these ingredients into one mass!

The first step to making fry bread is getting kicked out of your home by both the Spanish and the American governments. The first few miles of “The Long Walk of the Navajo” was probably pretty rough, but after a while, calluses (both physical and emotional) started to grow and everything got much better, so tough it out until then.

Once you get to the government sanctioned land, you’ll discover that your enemies, the Comanche and the Apache, are also there, bringing the land meant for 5,000 up to an angry 10,000 who still manage to mount constant raids on one another, regardless of the U.S. military nearby. Keep your head down and you’ll be just fine.

When the first rations show up, toss out the majority (since they’re rotten) and get to work. Get your flour, leavening (baking powder works), salt, and water. 

SUBSTITUTION TIP: Out of salt? The store’s too far away? You can use the sweat and tears of the Navajo people instead! If you don’t know any Navajo, head down to the area between the Four Corners and the Pecos River valley. The Navajo left loads of body salt.

This is all you need because this is all you have!

Mix one cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt, a teaspoon of leavening, and a half cup of water together in a small bowl. Is the bowl/land too small to fit the ingredients/people? Deal with it. That’s all the bowl that the U.S. government gave you, so you’d better make friends.

QUICK TIP: If your neighbors come by for a raid, offer to share some fry bread with them! Maybe they won't kill you.

Wow! It sure is a mess in that bowl/government designated land!

Now cover your hands in flour (or dirt, since it’s not going to do much to the taste of dough made from rotten ingredients) and make the dough into a ball. Now separate that ball into four balls (a good way to remember how many balls to separate each serving into is to remember the four sacred mountains that made the border of the Navajos ancestral lands). 

FUN FACT: If you live in the Four Corners area, you live near where the Navajo made their home for over 300 years before being driven out by gun point.

If you're Navajo, maybe you don't remember your ancestral lands

Put some lard in your frying pan and get it good and hot. If you put too much lard in the pan, you can scrape some off the top. For scraping reference, see the scalping of the beloved Navajo leader, Narbona, in 1849 by the U.S. Military.

Call it shortening if you want. It's still lard.

Once the lard is hot, drop in your fry bread. You’ll want to stretch each ball out thin to make a scone-like shape. Don’t worry about stretching it too thin, because it will become hardened by the constant heat and pressure! Let the bread brown on each side before pulling it out.

Don't get too close to the oil! It'll scorch you like the sun scorched

the backs of thousands of Navajo men, women, and children.

Let the fry bread cool and then slather it with butter and jam. If you don’t have butter and jam, I guess you can use more lard. If you have to conserve your lard, just eat it plain. If there isn’t enough for one piece each, break yours into pieces and share.

This is a great meal unless you have to eat it every day for an extended period of time because the government is taking forever to find a scrap of land to leave you in!

From my kitchen to yours, enjoy!

The Dead Letter Office: The Note I Should Have Left on the Pie in the Fridge

Dear Mom, Dear Dad,

This is a strawberry-raspberry rhubarb pie (even though it looks like soup with chunks of pie crust floating in it (look forward to next week's Adventure Cuisine (because it's how to make pie soup and pretend that it's what you meant to make)!)). I hope you enjoy it (because it will make up for using all the ingredients (flour, sugar, brown sugar, berries, rhubarb, water (which is the one I feel worst about (what are you going to put out all the fires with (there are so many fires (you may have missed it, being gone all week, but Utah is pretty much completely engulfed in flames)!)?)))).

You will notice, I am sure, two of your thousand or so books missing. The first is a copy of Grandpa Pack's biography (because there were a bunch of them and, if I recall, I think one belongs to each of us (though I could be wrong (but even if I am, I'll pretend I'm not (finders keepers!))) and the second is a copy of The Redoubtable John Pack (that word is ridiculous ("redoubtable," I mean (one definition is "worthy of respect," but another is "causing fear or alarm" (I'm just putting that out there to create some contention among family historians)))). I needed them for a paper I'm writing called, "If This Kid's Great-great-great Grandfather Could see what his Descendant was Writing on Facebook, He Would Disown the Prick" (Mom, please don't smack me in the head next time you see me for using the word "prick" (actually, I guess you'd be well within your rights as a mother (after all, you kind of gave birth to me (apparently that's a tough thing (I believe it))))). It's a tentative title, but I think it has a nice ring to it (I'm terrified that I've already used up my "weird title" quota for the semester (also, the paper is only 750 words or so and I don't think I need to do this much research (but I'll do it anyway))). I will return these books (probably (maybe (no promises (you'll probably want to get them yourself)))) once I am done with them.


Here's hoping (this marks the first and, hopefully, last time I ever use that term) that you had a great trip!


Love,


Kendall


P.S. I watered the garden, the raspberries, and the strawberries. I would have mowed the lawn, but I ran out of time (I didn't (it was really hot out (I started working outside at noon (I guess I could have gotten to the lawn later (it wouldn't have been a big deal (it would have been the least I could do for the aforementioned birthing (not to mention putting up with me for so many years (because that's what "raising" a child seems to be in the end)))))))).


P.P.S. Happy Independence Day (though you're reading this on the seventh)!

The Most Familial Adventure: Navigating a Family Campout: How to Hold a Stone-Skipping Competition

How glorious earth's bounty, fellow adventurer!

Earth is a factory, creating many wonderful things. And, much like the factories of old, it takes a long time to make anything because the workers are underpaid and, therefore, lazy. But when the earth pops out a new batch of materials, it's always worth it (unlike the iPhone 5 (which I'm bitter about because I have a flip phone still)). 

One of, if not the, illest of all Earth's creations is rocks. Rocks can be used for heat and throwing. Some say there are other purposes, but those people aren't trustworthy, fellow adventurer. Stay away from them.

The most important sport of all time (and a big contender for new Olympic event, my heart tells me) is skipping rocks. If you can't skip rocks, it's because your spirit and body are not in communion. It's a natural skill for those who have souls, so you should take a long look at your life and figure some things out if you're having a rough time skipping a stone.

The first step to skipping rocks is finding some smooth stones, like the ones in the picture above. You'll notice that some of these rocks are a little large and not terribly round. These are the rocks that you give to the other competitors.

Adam (Senior Adventurer, 2nd class), trying to skip a trick rock

Now that you have your rocks, assemble the weakest and smallest of your relatives for a rousing game of Skip the Rock (the Indian name for it, probably).

REMEMBER: Don't let your dad play, because he's somehow better than you at everything.

Dad (Senior Adventurer, 1st class), destroying us even with his faulty old-person joints

The most important thing to remember about skipping rocks is that, no matter how many or few skips you get, you must always brag about it. If you get one skip, it had better make a huge splash (or, conversely, the smallest splash). If you accept failure, you accept the sad existence of a non-adventurer.

Of equal importance is form:

The rock may have skipped only once, but I look incredible doing it

As the game goes on, more people will likely join, thinking that they're somehow involved. Allow it. This brings me to a vital point: Do not skip rocks in the same area where you found them. Search for the best rocks elsewhere so that, if anyone joins your game in play, they will only find the worst rocks and you will look like some sage of rock skipping.

FUN TIP: If anyone finds your rock-gathering area, threaten them with death.

Our playing field, where only the most lopsided rocks rest

You may be wondering, fellow adventurer, why I have not discussed how to throw rocks or the ideal amount of skips. What a fascinating question that I don't care about AT ALL.

Conclusion: Adventure In Progress. Also, old people are deceptively skilled.

An old person makes us look stupid

Adam, having taken second place, enacts a variation on the B-Boy stance

Join us next time for Campfire Cuisine!