Most of you out there know that I am a very skilled baker, who is also partnered up with a very skilled chef.  While my talents have come from practice at home, my partner's come from 17 years of cooking experience ranging from mom and pop Italian to fine dining and just about everything in between.  The consequence of this is delicious food, a kitchen that is always in a state of disrepair, and a fat intake that requires an obscene amount of exercise in order to avoid needing one of those rascals.

DIGRESSION

Because of our eating habits, I typically end of biking to work and back.  Round trip, this equates to about 12 miles a day.  Do that three times and you're at 36 miles, than add on any rides we might take for fun.  I also do yoga, but that has little to do with this tangent. 

I was biking home the other day after a pretty long day at work, over 9 hours if I remember correctly.  I almost always ride on the street with the exception of 3 blocks.  This particular road is 4 lanes of one-way traffic, heavy traffic that also has numerous turn lanes.  It is a brief gauntlet that scares the bejesus out of me and so I opt for the sidewalk.  On this particular day, I saw a man riding on the same sidewalk coming in the opposite direction.  He was in a rascal and, without falling into anger-induced stereotypes, let's just say he did not signal that he was in this mobile chair due to glandular problems.  I say this as someone who knows people with such ailments who have to use motorized wheelchairs and have articulated to me how to spot those who simply lead an unhealthy lifestyle.  Now, I usually wouldn't pay much attention to this except that he, well, aimed for me.  No joke.  The son of a bitch started grunting and actually tried to run me into heavy traffic.  What the hell?!

GET BACK ON TRACK

One night a few months ago, some of the more annoying people we know paid us a visit.  These guys in fact:

We decided to make the best of their company and wow them with our culinary skills.  Well, it was more my partner who was riding the Wow train.  I was just excited to eat some good food.  We began with a little of this:

Which was quickly follow by this:

With a touch of that:

 Et voila!  you have this:

DIGRESSION

   

Back in 2009, my partner cooked for me for the first time.  The relationship was new, in fact it was still "dating" and this was really the first thing either of us did to show our affection for each other  He made a rare New York Strip Steak with a blue cheese sauce on top of garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus.  As I was eating it, he asked me what I thought.  All I could say was, "I'm in trouble."  To which he replied, "Yes.  Yes you are."  Almost three years later, he still has my stomach and my heart wrapped around his finger.  

STOP BEING CUTE AND GET ON WITH IT!

After eating my partner's perfectly seared scallops, delicious mashed potatoes, and wonderfully crisp asparagus, I felt disappointed in what I was going to make...popovers.  

Really?  I can't believe I just let him show me up like that!

Thankfully, because the main course was so hefty, a light and airy dessert was just what the people wanted.  So they got it:

Let's be real here, that looks pretty damn cute.

Originally I wasn't sure what to do for the topping.  The most intrusive of the two guests, Captain Red Shirt whom I suspect is a commie, piped up and suggested doing a simple yet delicious chocolate sauce.  He gave me his recipe, incorporating a secret ingredient that proved most delectable.  Thank you, commie bastard!

The result was...

 

 Light. Airy. Chocolaty. Delicious.

I will kill you

A good friend of ours, in fact...

 ...this guy

...recently moved home to New Orleans. He, J, is a great guy and an even better friend.  He's someone with whom you can get into a shouting match during a heated debate and then have a great time laughing about a sophomoric joke the next day.  In gratitude for all he'd done for us, I decided to surprise him with real, traditional Louisiana Bread Pudding.  So I called in some favors from...

this girl.  

Ignore that guy.  He refused to drink with us in NOLA.

He learned his lesson after he was dropped off in the 9th Ward overnight. 

That girl was an old friend of J's.  She'd housed Captain No-Fun and us in NOLA before ever meeting us, so I knew I could abuse her generosity further by asking for her input on the Bread Pudding.  I looked around different cookbooks and websites, deciding to combine two recipes into one.  I ran it by Lady Generous and I was off to make one of the most unhealthy desserts ever wrought from my small, pale hands.

When I begin to describe this Bread Pudding to people, I am frequently met with remarks referring back to one's mother and how said mother's recipe could not be beat.  Well you know what?  Your mother didn't use doughnuts for the bread.

You read that right.  I bought a dozen glaze doughnuts and staled them out in a bag for days, using that as the bread for the Bread Pudding.  Conclusion: your mom did not know the real deal.

The first step is to soak the stale doughnuts in milk until they are nice and mushy.  You can't overwork them because they'll turn into actual mush.  You must walk the line while plagued with doubt.

While the doughnuts are soaking, you prepare the bourbon sauce, adding as much bourbon as you like.  I, apparently, like it a lot.  Once the sauce is ready, you basically add spices, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and raisins gingerly.  The doughnuts are very delicate at this point and they must be treated as such in order to result in the proper fattening of loved ones.

After baking what will become the Bread Pudding, you plate it and add the bourbon sauce.  None of us were prepared for how strong yet delicious this would be and so some had to wait before driving home.  

It might look like slop, but this shit is tasty!

So to J and Lady Generous, thank you for everything.  I hope to see you both again soon!