Man Makes: Pizza

A couple of years ago, a few months after we moved in to our new home, my wife bought me a JY Firebricks oven for my birthday. It’s a brilliant smokeless brick oven that uses charcoal as fuel, requires minimal maintenance, and is practically weatherproof. In fact, I placed mine in the garden, partially covered by the roof…and I haven’t heard it complain once. As a bonus, it even makes for a nice conversation piece during garden parties. The only downside to this thing is that it takes a while before it reaches baking temp (about 700º F or higher for pizza). But then again, what better excuse to have a beer or two or three?

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Man Makes: Bacon Salt

What can I say about Bacon Salt that the name doesn’t already give away?

It’s Bacon.

It’s Salt.

It’s amazing!

Always take everything with a grain of (bacon) salt.

What can you do with it? The question is: What CAN’T you do with it?!?

Oh Bacon Salt, the places you’ll go…

Man Makes/Man Eats: Thanksgiving Breakfast

For all the blessings of 2011, An and I decided to invite a couple of friends and siblings this morning to a simple Pre-New Year thanksgiving breakfast.

This was an easy to prepare breakfast since we already had the following lying around in the kitchen:
1) Fresh batch of Bacon Jam
2) Bacon
3) Day-old Ensaymada
4) A dozen sous vide eggs from a friend
5) Pancake/Waffle mix from some gift basket
6) Mom’s new stove-top waffle maker

Notice that “Bacon” appears twice in that list? If the Mayans turn out to be right, then I’ve got nothing to worry about.

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Man Makes: Bacon Jam

I first learned about Bacon Marmalade from Liza de Guia’s (@SkeeterNYC) video blog, food. curated. According to the video, Bacon Marmalade was born out of a kitchen “mistake” made by Chef Ross Hutchison of Brooklyn, NYC. If there’s such a thing as a “good mistake,” this is probably it.

Now if you’ve read this blog before, then you know that I love bacon. You probably also know that the first thought that entered my mind was “I need this in my life.”

Since Manila isn’t exactly next door neighbors with New York, I knew that it might be a while before I could get my hands on a bottle. So, I made like Pedro Cerrano and said: “Fuck you, Jobu. I do it myself.

And I did.

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