Tag Archives | white trash cooking

The Soiled Burger Project 02

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Last week, I introduced The Soiled Burger Project; my attempt to up my burger grilling game. In my opinion, Burger 01 was a success to my ever growing belly and dulling taste buds.

I was set to continue the pointless, calorie rich project as the week went on, then I ran out of propane, then I was out-of-town for three days, but hey, I’m back in town now, with some fresh ‘pane and I’m set to continue on with Burger 02, a spicy, sriracha sauce tinged, hunk of ground meaty goodness on a bun. Or at least that’s what I had hoped.

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The Soiled Burger Project 01

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So far this summer I have been struggling with my grilled hamburger skills. I’ve scoured the internet, flipped through magazines and even busted out some cookbooks looking for ideas, but so far, so not good. Everything has just been a bit bland. Hell, Wifey even recently declared that she’s “off burgers,” as she took a swig of Jack and threw the plate containing the half eaten burger against the wall, forcing me to tears (I made that up, Wifey doesn’t drink whiskey).

However, I am putting my early summer grill failures behind me and getting balls deep into trying to make a better, tastier hamburger all on my own (yes, I am aware that the use of the term “balls deep” may not be the way to start off a blog post about food. Sorry, it just worked).

Since my evening dinners will be void of grilled burgers until Wifey deems her palette ready for another go, I am resigned to working on building a better burger for my lunches. So after my ride today I set about making burger 01 of the Soiled Burger Project, an ongoing Cat 5 Cooking summer series devoted to my attempts to make what I believe is a better burger (welcome to the world of the unemployed). Your taste buds may differ, and yes, I am aware that referring to any food as “soiled” is not all that appetizing, I think we’ll all be OK…

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Soiled Chamois Rice & Beans

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It’s sort of funny [not really] that nearly all of my favorite meals look like something that was scraped off the piss smelling coat of a bum passed out in an alley after three bottles of Wild Irish Rose and a “found” half eaten gas station burrito. Funny or not [mostly not], any combination of brown rice, meat, beans, peppers, onions and a bit of cheese usually results in me being fully satisfied in the gut (and more than a tad gassy).

Tonight’s rice & beans was based on what Bon Appétit magazine calls the “hottest trend to come out of American kitchens since the kale-splosion of 2012.”  Tex-Mex-Cajun-Italian Fusion.

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Sausage Party

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I would love to fill your heads with tales of racing and long rides, but I can’t. I could probably talk about U.S. Cyclocross Nationals, but cross really isn’t my thing, so I won’t. Instead, I will fill your head with sausages, because lately many have come to expect very little from this “cycling” blog and I aim to please.

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When In Doubt, Cook Up Chicken

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As you may or may not know, I hesitate to call my riding, time on the trainer and in the gym “training.” I suppose it sort of is, but I think of it more as “doing stuff” so as not to get even fatter… and an attempt to get back to just mildly embarrassing myself on the bike next season (oppose to completely embarrassing myself as I did in 2013). Having once again said that disclaimer of my slackness and douchery I can get to the post at hand…

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White Trash Soba Noodles & Peas

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I made this up in less than 10 minutes after the gym today. Some chicken or beef in it would have been nice, but for a quick lunch it was pretty OK. Then again, after last night’s meatloaf binge and 2 a.m. case of the meat sweats, I was just fine with meatless version. Who knew you could excrete ground beef and pork through your pores???

Crush Pasta

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I love pasta and I am done trying pretend that I don’t, or that I can eat Primal or Paleo for more than a week or two before I realize that life is too short to not eat pasta (or beans for that matter). I’m sorry, but Italians have been eating the stuff forever and Italy has produced some pretty freaking legendary cyclists– none of which I recall being fat in their racing days. So as I often say on this blog (and in my daily life) “fuck it.” Or in this case, “Fuck it, I’m eating pasta.” Moderation and miles on the bike seems to work best for crushing pasta and not having to move up a belt size.

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