The Groupon Chronicles part one: KON TIKI

Part one: KON TIKI

For most of us here in Tucson, Kon Tiki is that curious Polynesian lounge in some dilapidated strip mall around the corner of Broadway and Swan. It looks cool but, well, the parking probably sucks and I bet it's filled with all sorts of characters from some beat lore drunken rejects from a Hemmingway or Bukowski novel, so I best not bother the regulars and just go to Appleby's for a Bud Light. For the rest of us, it is a curious piece of tiki themed Americana that does cater to a swill tank of bumbling rummys and aging red nosed Jimmy Buffet fans who want to “let loose” all too often in rotten loud printed shirts and sing 'Margaritaville' extremely off key and inventing words as the infusion of booze-a-hol makes one tend to forget that its actually “a woman to blame” not “a worm on my name.” And what the heck does that mean anyway? Having a male ponytail at 60 must make ones brain stretch and pull all pertinent residual information now hovering in a reek sack of bong resin and much too many scorpion bowls.

Kon Tiki, is, indeed, all of the aforementioned bliss: It's dark, it's retro, it's in a bad neighborhood, it's kind of sticky, the fishtank needs a cleaning and for gods sake would that lady please shut up about her cat being diabetic? I mean, for real, another gin fizz and she'll be weeping about Muffin and the fact that he's now on kitty insulin.

My first experience with Kon Tiki was questionable at best. Having recently moved here from San Francisco (which was 7 years ago) I thought going to a Polynesian tiki hut bar would be a great idea because back there, tiki bars were really cool and plentiful and we usually had a great time in them. The Tonga Room was probably the best, with amazing happy hour fare, huge drinks (that were also hugely expensive) and a tropical storm would crackle and rain over you every half hour. Trader Vic's on upper Geary street was a smaller and more tame version and the same one where we got in trouble for playing the first Spice Girls album on the jukebox in constant rotation from front to back. So, when the option to go hang out at Kon Tiki came my way I got kind of excited and promised myself to not drink the Hurricane because last time, I well...let's say I woke up across town next to somebody else with the words “poop here” written in sharpie next to my mouth.

The facade of Kon Tiki was interesting to me, although it felt a bit worn down and shabby. I liked the little bridge leading up to the big red door but the surrounding landscape was mossy, grown over and littered with urban debris. Upkeep here, I thought, must be at a minimum because the interior is the main priority as are the stiff and sweet drinks.

Nope. The interior, although decked out like an early 60's swinging bachelor pad, loomed in a haze of old drunks and yellowed from years of too much cigarette smoke clinging to decades old plastic tiki gods, bamboo screens and black velvet paintings of scantily clad island temptresses. We sat down near the back, in full observance of a huge and, yes, completely filthy aviary behind the squiggly bar, and I was pleased to find that an impromptu taco bar was set up for happy hour. After ordering my drink, I got up to sample the free fare but was not at all shocked to find that the food all but decimated with some sad shredded cheese mix looking up at me and begging me to put it out of its misery. No matter though, the locals were out for taco bar blood and they pushed me aside to devour the sloppily chopped iceburg lettuce, inhale the gray meat flavored from a dusty concoction in a easy to open packet and shove it all in taco shells that only school lunchrooms should deem appropriate and “edible”. There was one woman who actually got upset at me for standing there and deciding if I should indeed grab a small paper plate and join the masses in their free taco eating frenzy.

“Well what are you waiting for?” she grumbled. “Let's get going. I've been drinking since noon.”

Forget it, I thought, and went back to my seat and joined my friends. Luckily, they too were hungry and had already started ordering off the menu. They wanted something called “Monkeys on a Stick”, some bbq ribs and crab puffs (although the c in crab was replaced by a k...clever). I felt nervous and hesitant to try anything cooked out of sight in a place like this. Sure, the drinks were big and strong like a Samoan warrior, and hit just as hard, but by the looks of the place, I'm sure the kitchen was twice as bad and filled with sketchy characters that haunted the bar, all trying to sing along to Bob Marley but only barely knew the chorus to “No Woman, No Cry.” 

 

When the food arrived I was pleasantly surprised to find the potions just as plentiful as the booze, with decent presentation, and it didn't look like cockroaches stuck on skewers. Monkeys on a Stick are cubed pieces of sirloin, marinated and jabbed onto wooden mini-stakes. I tried one. It was good. Really good. Perfect medium rare with a very pleasant and tangy flavor. The bbq ribs actually fell off the bone and were just as flavorful and cooked with precision just as the steak skewers had been. I'm always hesitant to try seafood from places that are far away from any body of water, but, I have to be honest here, those crab puffs, sorry...”krab puffs” were really good, all combined in cream cheese and some spices. Now, I thought, as always, I should never judge a book, or at least a kitchen, by the look of its cover, meaning the outside and interior. Some of my favorite eateries were usually known as “shit holes” by others, only because the central focus was the food and having to weave your way through back alleys, or walk though low ceiling dark dungeon-like dining areas only to come out the other end experiencing some of the greatest food you've ever had felt like an initiation, weeding out the naysayers and the fearful and introducing the brave and always up for anything clan to flavors you really didn't know existed.

Kon Tiki was sort of like that.

Now, we'd go back to Kon Tiki, now and then, but really, if ever, ate off the menu. It was usually a stopping point for visiting friends or a meeting place before we went out to a “respectable” eating establishment. Then we just kind of stopped going there. I mean, it is kind of out of the way for us and, well, after a bit we kind of forgot about Kon Tiki.

Then, quite recently, the place got a facelift. The torches outside of Kon Tiki hadn't been lit in years. In it's heyday, Kon Tiki had those big savage fire torches lit and you could see them from blocks away. Through the years though, with money and the times being an issue, they just stopped lighting them which gave an extra sad element to it's already fading glory. When I arrived for the first time I had to hear tales of long time residents spinning about how glorious and cool those torches were. But, with some new money coming in and some interested parties and investors, the torches outside of Kon Tiki are lit once again making the new coat of paint shine even brighter. 

 

Then, we got an email from Groupon. “$10 for $20 worth of food at Kon Tiki” it said. If you're not familiar with Groupon, you should be. All you have to do is go to their website (www.groupon.com), sign up and you'll soon start getting emails about deals around your town. We have discovered so many badass restaurants because of it, which is the reason behind this series of Homeskillet blogs. So when we got one for Kon Tiki, we were all “Oh yeah. The food really was good there.” Except for that taco bar mess. I mean, was that salsa or...?

So on a pleasant afternoon, one that we both had off together (a Tuesday, another benefit of working in the restaurant industry, weekdays off) after running some errands we decided to give Kon Tiki another shot.

The front entrance was now clean and very un-mossy, the grounds were kept and free of debris and the big red front door looked brand new. When we stepped inside we were now met with a clean fishtank, shined up tiki gods and happy to see that old crappy aviary was gone and replaced by a real patio. Note to all bar and restaurant owners in Tucson: If you do not have a patio in your establishment you are fxxked. Install one now. Have you seen the weather out there? Yeah. Beautiful. And where are your patrons supposed to smoke? By the dumpster? Get the hint here people. Tucson is definitely patio territory. 

 The old terrarium, now a patio...thank the tiki gods!

Of course there were the expected smatterings of some drooling barflys but, that's a given in any dimly lit bar in any town near a methadone clinic. We sat near the back and were warmly greeted by the bartender. The menus were new, our table was clean and it seemed to have a much more open and friendly vibe. Maybe it was because it was a Tuesday afternoon and not Friday night in the middle of the pineapple soaked rum rage puke holocaust that I was so used to in places like this. Still, it smelled a lot better.

She-Ra, of course, got the Monkeys on a Stick and a large house salad while I got the Hawaiian bbq chicken with steamed rice. Our salads came out first accompanied by fresh made banana bread, which literally melted in your mouth. The salads were fresh, the dressing was tangy and so far we were pretty impressed.

Then came the entrees. The Monkeys on a Stick were a lot bigger than I had remembered from trying them so long ago. Huge chunks of marinated sirloin clung to those skewers. She-Ra tried one and her eyes closed. “These literally,” she mewed “are melting in my mouth.” I had to try one. It was true, that meat was so tender and cooked to medium rare perfection. Who's back in the kitchen, I wondered. I was envisioned a large dark skinned man hailing from an island that I had never heard of somewhere in the bright blue pools off of Polynesia. My chicken was amazing. That Hawaiian bbq sauce was packed with flavor, doused over a large pineapple ring and my chicken breast, which was generous, juicy and perfectly cooked. We basically ate in silence. Were we that impressed with the food or were we happy that a Tucson staple had gotten a much needed facelift and planned to come back as soon as possible? It was both. It had to be. Not to mention my side veggies were steamed just enough and seasoned just as well, a perfect accompaniment to a perfect lunch.

We left Kon Tiki satisfied, walking out into the late afternoon sun with smiles on our faces and in our tummies. Not just pleased with our meal but happy to know that people who give a crap and want to maintain a tradition in our city made the effort and gave a quirky institution the attention it deserves. I highly recommend eating at Kon Tiki, now that they have revamped and, obviously, hired a new chef. Let's all hope he looks like that image I hold in my imagination: Grinning a toothy grin as he sharpens curved knives over an open flame of ribs and steak, his ample Maori form a testament to all things great about eating good island inspired fare.

Of course, they still do happy hour and that taco bar is featured on Fridays. And you just read about my experience in tiki lounges on Fridays right? So, yeah, good luck with that one.

Thank you Groupon for re-introducing us to a place we had lost faith in. It's good to know that when you're in the hub of Broadway and Swan, and are craving a tall fruity well hooched drink, such as a (gulp!) Hurricane, Zombie, the famous Scorpion Bowl and something called The Suffering Buster, before the heady death swagger of one sip over the line hits your system, you can order something off the menu that will soak it up and stick to your ribs to boot. You just gotta love Kon Tiki and now that we've been back after all these years, we love it too.

But I will love it less if that crazy cat lady comes back and tells me Muffin has died because of some diabetic coma. C'mon lady. I'm only on my first drink and the surf and turf is to die for.

No offense... 

 

How Metal Mark conquered the dreaded Omelet!

I (finally) made a decent omelet.

I have now been alive here on planet Earth, the third rock from the sun, for 40 years now. Many of those years, I have made breakfast for either myself, friends, girlfriends, parents, room mates, various couch sleepers, neighbors, freeloaders (see neighbors) and now She-Ra. It's been a treat, honestly. I love breakfast. Most important meal of the day, right? That's what 'they' say. And I love to cook. But one thing, one thing!, has eluded me the entire time I have manned the griddle and fry pan, one thing that I adore and some claim to make the best one ever.

I'm talking about the omelet.

I don't know why. Can't explain it. All the hints, recipes, watching of breakfast line cooks, watching Jamie Oliver do it on YouTube and trying again and again and again only yields one certain outcome: Your omelet that I am making you is now a “scramble”.

I'd do all the flips, the folds, the clever tricks and...nothing. Disaster. Luckily for me though, being a huge Top Chef fan and oft watcher of the Food Network, I found that a LOT of people, celebrated chefs and celebrity cooks included, can't make a decent omelet. It's not an easy task. It's not the impossible mission but, it can be done. Heck I watched a young, fresh out of culinary academy kid make an exceptional omelet at a resort here in Tucson. Boy had skills yo. Fluffy, perfect eggs, right amount of ingredients, cooked impeccably; I gorged that thing down and told myself that one day, one day!, that I would master the art of the omelet.

Soooooo, after much research, some “air flipping” practice and watching, yet again, that skittish Jamie Oliver do it online, along with a few other 'normal' cooks, I finally came up with a master plan. On a recent day off with She-Ra, I entered the kitchen, prepped and prepared myself to make an omelet.

Here's what I did and, hopefully, some of you out there that can't make one or have never attempted due to the daunting task that it is and could possibly be, will find my play-by-play instruction here helpful, even in the most minuscule way.

Okay.

We had jumbo eggs, so I used 2 each. Cracked them into a bowl and mixed with a tablespoon or two of milk. I use 1% and that seems to be alright. Little salt and pepper and, get this, I add a dash of Worcestershire sauce to the mix. Why? Brings out a bit of the meaty flavor in the yolk. Try it. Trust me.

Now, here's the important part – you gotta whisk like a mofo. For real. That's the key to nice and pillowy eggs, beat them into submission. Not gonna lie here, my wrist hurt a bit. But, hey, cooking isn't for sissies you know.

Get your skillet or non-stick pan on the stove and turn the heat up to Medium High or 6 or 7 if you have an electric stove (which we do...unfortunately). Put in a pat of butter and immediately turn the pan so the butter coats all side of it. Do NOT let the butter turn brown. Scorched butter sucks and it'll make the eggs taste yucky. Once the pan is hot, the butter is perfectly melted, it's time to add the eggs.

Pour them in but DO NOT STIR! Let them cook for about a minute or until the bottom is set. With a spatula, a good quality, heat resistant one that's fairly wide, push on an edge of the eggs ever so gently while tilting the pan to allow the still liquid eggs to slide underneath. Repeat this step with all sides until there is no liquid left.

Now, what you got in your pan is a big bright yellow pancake. That's what you want. It should move easily around the pan (if not, get a better non-stick pan or use a little extra butter next time) but loosen it with that spatula just to be sure.

This part can get a bit clumsy, one step I always screwed up. Flip those eggs over! Hey, I got a little on the back of the stove so it's okay if some spills. Just do it quickly, using the spatula to ease it in. Cook for a few more seconds. But not too long. Just until there is no uncooked egg left.

Here comes the fun part. Adding your ingredients. She-Ra, knowing that I wanted to make omelets on our day off, had supplies ready to go for the filling. She got some ham, green pepper, red onion and good Wisconsin cheddar cheese. That's right dear reader. We figured if I'm gonna make omelets, they might as well be Denver style.

In a straight line across the center I added the ingredients (the cheese was shredded of course). Once I was happy with the filling, which looked awesome, I then folded one side over so it lined up with the other side. I then flipped the whole folded omelet over and let it cook for a few more seconds. Once I saw just a hint of browning, I immediately transferred it to a ready plate.

At the same time I had hash browns going in another skillet. Hey, if you're going to go, you gotta go.

The end and pleasing result of my omelet attempt was this:

Not bad right? And, oh, was it good. Sure, I've had plenty of omelets before, a lot being far more exquisite than the ones I made that morning, but, still, it felt good not to be afraid of the dreaded making of an omelet.

Then we watched Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and took a nap.

There it is. Quick, painless, easy and so delicious. Just wanted to share my experience on becoming a non-omelet virgin. It's a good feeling. Liberating really.

Now I gotta try crepes....

Bar Food or Pub Grub. Whatever. It's the best food in town.

The best food in town? Go to a bar...

One thing that celebrity chef and author Anthony Bourdain has championed is the non-demonizing of street food and pub fare. The guy has literally eaten at the best restaurants, with some of the best chefs, in the world!, but yet he still craves meat on a stick served by a humble cart vendor more than any truffle infused foie gras or some molecular gastronomy puzzle with aromatic foams that you have to figure out before stuffing it into your maw .

That other guy, Andrew Zimmern, just likes to eat penis and balls. 

Thing is, honest people like honest food. Sure, I crave a coursed meal now and then. I like presentation and complex flavors with clever sauces and new fusion ideas. Who doesn't? If you like to eat, much like I do, you gotta break the wallet now and then and treat yourself to some 4 star luxury.

But that's on the rare occasion. Me?, I love hearty and fun food. Hands down. Heck my good pal Tavish the other day, while munching on a rotisserie turkey sandwich I made for She-Ra, blithely exclaimed “I could eat sandwiches everyday. No doubt about it. Best thing ever.” And, you know what? He's right.

If you take those basic elements that most of us here in the States hungrily crave on a regular basis, put it in your favorite local pub or dive bar and, viola!, an instant recipe for success...at least in my opinion.

So, I've gone on about the wonders of Tucson and the fact that it is relatively hidden from the rest of the culinary world. Oh sure, they may know about the Sonoran hot dog and, yeah, they watched Adam Richman on Man vs. Food conquer the OMFG burger at Lindy's on 4^th, but what about Acacia at St. Phillips Plaza? Did you know that executive chef Albert Hall has won multiple awards for his savory cioppino and the fact that the salmon, which he bronzes in a sweet honey pecan glaze, is flown in from a lake in Scotland? Oh yeah. That guy and place rules. Or that Pastiche, outside of its world influenced menu, has, literally, the best mac and cheese plate ever? You put gouda and bacon in anything and I'll eat it. Thing is, eating in Tucson is so much fun and I have found three distinct bars that have some of the best food in town.

Let's check it out...

First up is the Boondocks Lounge. Now, if you live in Tucson and drive or bike or walk or stumble anywhere near midtown, you know the Boondocks. Its that place with the big wine bottle that says...Boondocks Lounge. It's around 1^st and Ft. Lowell. You cant miss it. I know you've seen it.

Now, the Boondocks, outside of being a full service bar with live music most nights, is home to the Range Riders Grill. Nothing fancy, nothing we aren't fully familiar with, the Range Riders Grill offers up some of the tastiest vittles in and around Tucson. The burgers are huge, juicy, hot and can come served with a fried egg on it, a red wine reduction or even peanut butter. Their sandwiches are just as amazing. She-Ra's favorite is the 'Velocifero' which features thick smoked bacon, turkey, sauteed onions and Swiss cheese which is then grilled on rye bread. Me? Well, if I'm not chowing down a guacamole burger, I love their club sandwich which is piled high and paired so well with a cold frosty mug and a game of Battleship So freaking good.

And on Fridays? You have to go in for their fish fry. Huge portions of battered cod served with fries and down home coleslaw for like 6 or 7 bucks. Unreal. Plus they serve breakfast everyday (except Monday) till around noon serving up flapjacks, scrambles, omelets, huevos rancheros and french toast. Trust me here, the Boondocks rocks!

And their wings? Ugh. I usually judge a place by the quality of their hot wings. Once we bit into their, we knew we were hooked. Every time they come to the table or bar we must look like a couple of ravenous cannibals; mouths literally covered in bright orange Buffalo sauce and a basket full of sucked to the marrow bones.

Now, this find and curiosity lead us even further down the way from our safe haven of our neighborhood. And if you know us, we really don't like to travel very far for food or drinks. It's usually in a good half mile radius that we can usually be found dining and wining. But we ventured out to North Oracle after hearing that the hidden, yet conveniently located, dive Joe and Vicky's served up some great pub grub.

We thought we'd start with something simple. So we got nachos. If you know She-Ra, then know this – the woman loves nachos. It was late afternoon after doing a bunch of errands and a beer and a plate of cheesy chip goodness sounded nice. When the nachos arrived, I felt like Sylvester Stallone in “Cliffhanger”. It was the K2 of nacho land. “This?”, I think I cried out. “Is a snack?” It was supposed to be an early appetizer before dinner, which we planned on cooking and eating in an hour or so. That meal got pushed back till 10pm. Why? Because we're dumb and we ate the whole friggin thing.

Joe and Vicky's also has fish specials, bountiful burgers, yummy sandwiches and the usual suspects you'd expect in a bar food line up. They are all hearty, delicious and worth enduring during karaoke night. I didn't even care that this guy was murdering (and not in a good way) “Margaritaville”. I was face down in my meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes. I couldn't hear him. My stomach was singing for me (in the good way).

You so have to go on Mondays and do their “All you can eat” tacos. What better way to end the most grumbled-about day then a non-stop taco orgy in a funky yet cozy place while watching the Wildcats lose? Sounds good to me. But, check this out:

One night we were craving Chinese food (or for those Dude Where's My Car? Fans “Chinese Fooooooood”) and there's a great place next door to Joe and Vicky's. While we waited for our order, we popped in for a drink while we waited. Once settled in, I looked up to see what their dinner special was (oh, I forgot to tell you, they have nightly specials) and I was regretful in my wanting of kung pao chicken when I saw written in dry erase marker: Wasabi crusted pork loin with seasonal vegetables and cheddar marbled twice baked potato. You have got to be kidding me? That is served here? So, your job is to not make the same mistake we did.

Just order food at Joe and Vicky's and leave the kung pao for later.

Last on the list (even though I know there is more out there, so stay tuned for our tummy rumble inspiring finds) is a place that we were just at recently and actually holds a pretty special place in both of us. Right next to the Loft Cinema, across from Rum Runner and Chuy's, at Country Club and Speedway, is a place that some refer to as “the Gutter”. It's actually called The Red Garter and used to be a much more rough and tumble establishment. In fact, it was one of the first bars I went to when I moved to Tucson. Let me tell you, this was a year before the AZ smoking ban in bars so the place was choking in a swirl of cigarette smoke clouds. I nearly died. Dude, I'm from California. I wasn't used to this. But luckily the laws changed as did the ownership.

Now it still looks the same, a little cleaned up, but one thing for sure, they got themselves one of the best cooks in town who is a grill and fry basket wizard. This guy must weigh around 400lbs and can only be seen once in a great long while. To catch a glimpse at the genius behind a fantastic homemade spicy wing sauce, that is slathered on thick and generous wings and drumettes, or the BBQ beef, is like waiting to see if the Do-Do bird will emerge from it's nest and stretch its wings in the bright morning fairy dust sun. I, honestly, have only seen his back. And, oh!, what a back it is. Not to be rude, but he obviously takes pride and samples of his culinary handiwork.

Once again, the burgers. Unreal. How many adjectives and anecdotal whimsies can I conjure up to describe meat between buns? I don't know. I honestly don't care. But recently, on a chilly night after running around the greater parts of Tucson in search of decorations and giveaways for an upcoming work related party, we stopped in, cold and starving, and ordered food. She-Ra got the wings (you just have to) and the steak fingers. If you know what Lucky Wishbone is then, look out Lucky Wishbone! This guy has you beat. I was nearly half dead from the recent goings-on at work, which has our kitchen turned upside down with new systems and organization while at the same time dealing with an upcoming and daunting new menu rollout, and I just wanted a burger. I got the BBQ sauce with bacon and cheddar and a side of spicy curly fries. I'm not gonna lie to you here, I was silent in my ravaging of the items that filled the large wicker basket, as tears of near thankfulness and appreciation welled up in my quivering half mast eyes. That and the sauce was rather tangy. As were the curly fries.

I have never had a poor meal or snack at the Garter, and I suspect that I never will. That is, as long as the stout prestidigitator behind those closed flap doors keeps churning out the bar bite mastery that he has been in all of his glorious secrecy.

Plus, and here's where it gets good, for our 4 year anniversary, She-Ra ordered to-go from the Garter: 2 pastrami sandwiches, which we ate while watching The Empire Strikes Back on the back wall at Dannys. Now, I am a pastrami purist, a whore even, and I will be wrought to tell you flat out “This sandwich is amazing” or “You ruined my lunch. Worst...pastrami...ever. Now I have to kill you!” And there are a few places in town, one that claims to be “just like New York” and “Kosher” but couldn't be farther from the truth, that claim good pastrami, and I've had a few, but there is one here in Tucson that I always return to. You want a good, honest, broiled, piled mile high and real pastrami sandwich? Go to the Red Garter. Tell 'em Metal Mark sent you. Sure, they'll look at you, shrug and mutter “Who?” but if word gets back to the chef de grande le sorcerer I know he'll perk up his meaty head and perhaps crack a brief smile. Only because I've spoken to him.

In my dreams.

Well, kids, there you have it. Three of my current top picks for amazing bar food and pub grub...or whatever you wanna call it. If you have any suggestions of your own, just contact me and I will be there sucka. Why?

Because. Dude...I'm so hungry right now.

And now, may I present....Arugula!

Arugula: My seemingly stalwart obsession.

Heavy Metal. The Muppets. Rotten movies. Vans sneakers. Hoodies with obscure doom metal or skateboard logos on them. Olive drab baggy shorts. My wife to be She-Ra. Tater-tots and pastrami.

You'd think that the above mentioned would be my daily dose of dedication and even obsession. And, to be honest, they are. It's true. Those things are with me most everyday. Especially She-Ra. I can go a day or two without tater-tots.

But let's say for, oh, the past year or so, maybe, one thing has been a staple in both our refrigerator and on most shopping lists, something that most people don't either A) care about or B) really know about. It's not anything complicated, upscale or even hard to come by. In fact, it's waiting for you right now at you local chain grocery store.

I'm talking about arugula here. 

That's right. Call them “rocket greens” or “pepper leaf”, due to it's slightly tangy and peppery flavor, but know this dear Homeskillet reader: Arugula literally goes good with anything.

Anything.

I have used it in tacos, on casseroles and omelets, in sandwiches, burgers, salads and pasta. The stuff, with it's not-too-soft-not-too-crunchy approach seems to make a lot of my favorite dishes just pop with that extra punch of leafy greens and spice.

Now, I'm totally sure you are quite aware of arugula and have eaten it on several occasions. So I hope you're not all “Dude, Mark, what gives? This blog sucks!” All I wanna do here is share some of my experiences and my seemingly wont go away routine in using arugula. The stuff is just awesome...or so my tastebuds seem to think.

OK. Let's get down to brass tacks here. Now, for my day job, I'm a pizza chef at a local busy bar/restaurant. It's a fun gig and gives me lots of room to experiment and get inspired. Not that I could serve this dish up to customers, but it is one that I took home and found to be quite tasty.

1 cup tomato sauce

1, 12 inch, pre-baked pizza crust (try to get it as thin as you can, Boboli is just too doughy)

2 chicken apple sausages

2 cups real mozzarella cheese

½ cup sun dried tomatoes

½ cup organic artichoke hearts

Some garlic

Pinch of parmesean cheese (the parm/romano shake mix works well too)

And, of course, 2 cups of de-stemmed arugula

First, pre heat your oven to 350 degrees. Next, combine the tomato sauce, as much mined garlic as you like, along with a bit of parmesean in a bowl or whatever and set aside. Cut up the sausages into pepperoni sized bits but make them kinda thick. Brown them, just get them brown now, none of that over cooked business because, most likely, they're already pre-cooked and let 'em cool down a bit on some paper towels to let the excess grease soak out.

Spread the pizza sauce on the dough. Add the mozzarella. Then add the artichoke hearts, sun dried tomatoes and the sausage. Place it in the oven for about, oh, 15 to 20 minutes, or at least until the cheese is nice and bubbly. When its done, top that bad boy with the arugula and, blammo!, pure, but simple and easy to make, awesomeness.

Here's another really fun way to use arugula. Trust me, it works...

High quality, bakery fresh sourdough bread

Bacon

A juicy organic hothouse tomato

An egg

The arugula

Toast that bread. Sizzle up that bacon. Fry the egg in the (but not all of) bacon grease, sunny side up is the way I like it. Take one piece of bread, add the arugula, then top that with a tomato slice, add the egg and top that with the bacon. For real.

I guess you can add some mayo or whatever, as long as it's something like the Kraft reduced fat mayo with olive oil which is, oddly enough, the healthiest option on the shelves right now. Go figure.

One day, bored and left alone, with a veggie drawer full of fresh arugula and a pantry full of crap, I decided to make one of my favorite “so not good for you but oh so utilitarian and yummy” things, which is pesto. Now, you can add pine nuts but, to be honest with you, I never cared much for pine nuts with my pesto. It's just a bunch of lil' nuts getting in the way of my pesto. I'm all like, “Hey nuts! Get out of my mouth! What do you...”

Wait. That sounded wrong.

Anyway, this is what I did:

4 cups of fresh arugula

A tablespoon or 2 of garlic

1 cup good quality olive oil

½ cup of parmesean

Salt and pepper to taste

I've tried the blanching of arugula (boiling it for like a few seconds then tossing it into an ice bath) but it just didn't make much sense. I just threw everything into my prep machine and hit “Maim” and after a few seconds of a bright green tornado on my kitchen counter, wa-binga!, some badass pesto man. And you can totally use this on anything: pasta, pizza, sandwiches, eggs, crostinis (add some pancetta and tomato to that crostini while you're at it)...whatever. It's a spicier version of the standard basil pesto fare. 

Plus, She-Ra has a great appetizer using arugula. Just slice a granny smith apple and cut it into planks. Place arugula on the apple slice and top it with fresh smoked salmon. Totally simple but de-fxxking-lish.

So there you have it. Some thoughts and ideas on my ever so constant craving for arugula. And this is just the beginning.

Don't even get me started on endive...