Sunday, September 2, 2012

HELLO. Tamalehawk may have abandoned his post here, but he lives on...Find him devouring Twitter under the handle @tamalehawk and blogging at

Monday, January 11, 2010

The Lurk

Digging through the archives, Tamalehawk stumbled onto these little guys, and immediately realized he still had a nearly full container of forgotten funfetti frosting in the fridge. He had high hopes for it at one a waffle topping, a pretzel stick dip, bagel varnish, maybe a carrot coating. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to finish the forboding fortress of fat.

He's thankful that it comes in a can, because the effort of getting a spoon from the drawer was at times the only thing that saved him from these monstrous machinations.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Stirred Up

The frigid climes incline Tamalehawk to master all manners of emergensoup. This garlic chickpea soup hit some kind of spot, a spot created by the steady stream of cold air that tends to blast through the floorboards of his nest and directly into his soul. This version involved chickpeas, shallots, a shredded potato, garlic, curry, cumin, coriander, and probably some other things along with the chicken broth. Simmer and then puree carelessly with an immersion blender, flecking your entire shirt with soup shrapnel while half-watching a demented version of Babes in Toyland with Keanu Reeves on TV.

If anyone has any ideas for soups that can be hastily assembled and pack the kind of serious flavor that challenges the swirling Chicago winds, please fire away. Extra points if it can chase away the flicker of shame Tamalehawk gets for not leaving his nest for an entire weekend.

Reporting For Duty

The second holiday highlight came entirely from Ladyhawk's wingtips. Tamalehawk needed only to sit back and bask in the wafting fragrance of these triple ginger cookies. Fresh, dried, and candied ginger combine like old partners in crime reuniting for one last mission, in this case the mission being to make Tamalehawk eat three before they even made it to the cooling rack. The verdict: dense, chewy, and addictive, like a good detective novel.

What else. Oh, Tamalehawk finally made it out to Kuma's for a vaunted burger after basically everyone in the world has already eaten there. Thanks to his brother, that is one less thing he should be openly ridiculed about. It was, as promised, incredibly memorable and he really felt like the blaring metal was a critical part of the experience. Definitely a Chicago staple.

Alight, Heavier

Tamalehawk wishes to thank you all for your patience during his accidental holiday hiatus. He looks forward to tending to the temperamental tirades this new year, full of hope that it will be replete with things to angrily eat. He has a lot of ground to make up for, so let's get started.

One of his bigger triumphs recently was this coconut cream pie, consisting of a trifecta of carefully composed cocomponents: a coconut pastry cream base, a coconut whipped cream, and toasted coconut topping. Hemmed inside a frozen crust because let's not get carried away here. This recipe was not hard at all and really delivered in a way that makes you proud, and not timid, about eating it for breakfast out of a coffee mug.

Diving In

Though this eggplant parmesan is a distant memory at this point, it is by no means forgotten. This caused Tamalehawk to reconsider his long-standing indifference towards the eggplant. Turns out, when sliced real thin, breaded, and fried, you get something all together delicious. He layered the golden planks in a casserole dish and parmesaned the hell out of them.

Also important to mention: the signature bean salsa of a gracious avocet, rife with diced mangos and a flurry of curry. After the bread ran out, Tamalehawk couldn't find a plane with enough surface area to inhale the terrific dip at the desired rate; thankfully there was an unfrosted sugar cookie nearby that was up to the task.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Against The Wall

Tamalehawk's endless quest for dessert forced his wing in the kitchen again, and after fifteen manic minutes of preparation and fifteen more in the oven, he had made what he had to admit were pretty terrific profiteroles. His first pâte à choux proved not too tricky, and he plans to ensnare a pair of ├ęclairs soon enough.

Since it was late and way past any watchable Bravo show, he skipped the custard filling this time and instead opted for a frantic baptism in an emergency ganache made in the microwave with some chocolate, a pat of butter for sheen, and cream. He ate three in a blink and polished off the rest of the ganache with a spoon because why waste that?