Delicious History

This article is a slightly altered version of my piece that ran in Cigar City’s July/August issue, “Go West”. The editor suggested that I write something about Boliche Boulevard, which inspired the culinary crawl documented below. I’ve also included the photos I chose to accompany the article: a friend snmapped one or two of them.

A Culinary Crawl Down Boliche Boulevard

For many years, Columbus Avenue has been fondly known as “Boliche Boulevard” because so many Latin restaurants could be found there. The namesake dish is an accurate mascot for Tampa’s Latin comfort food. A beef eye round roast stuffed with chorizo and topped with tomato based gravy, boliche is a common blue-plate special, the Cuban equivalent of meat loaf or brisket. I recently took a trip down Columbus to appraise its status as Boliche Boulevard. Beginning at its intersection with Dale Mabry, I drove east in search of good food.

You won’t find any fancy bistros on this chow trail, where Cuban cuisine is the norm. Tampa’s Cuban culinary scene remains frozen in the pre-Castro days of the 1950s. Cuban exiles have largely been cut off from developments on their mother island. Culinary change in Cuba itself has been slowed by shortages and Communism’s suppression of the restaurant scene through regulations. Tampa’s Cuban cafeterias specialize in comfort food like the “meats and threes” of the Deep South. The old style food reminds one of a time before Castro, the Cold War, and the U.S. trade embargo.

Tampa’s Cuban community celebrates its cuisine daily in humble diners and cafes on Boliche Boulevard. Three standbys uphold old-fashioned Boliche Boulevard: Arco Iris, La Teresita, and the Lincoln. Arco Iris is my current favorite, although that is subject to change. La Teresita’s counter is tough to beat, especially when dining solo, because no one there eats alone. It is also open all night on weekends, a great plus for the dancing and drinking crowd. La Teresita is the Cubano version of the greasy spoon. The Lincoln’s Spanish bean soup is among the best in town, although I’ve heard the food was better under previous ownership. With Arco Iris, which boasts the highest quality food, all three restaurants provide a comforting, predictable experience. The food in these places will rarely surprise or disappoint you. They are the old guard.

Intent on having Boliche on the boulevard, I enjoyed a tender and flavorful roast at Arco Iris.  But first, I delved into a bowl of Caldo Gallego, a Galician soup of white beans, turnip greens, and abundant pork fat.  Yes, that floating mass in the bowl is a hunk of pork fat.  And don’t forget the Cuban toast.  Enjoy!

Some Cuban favorites in Tampa: black bean soup, morro rice, Spanish bean soup, fried plantains, Cuban roast pork, and boliche.  Arco Iris does Cuban diners proud.

Further down the street, you will find Snack City, a humble little place that has one secret weapon: Alfredo Naranjo’s wonderful ice cream. His vibrant tropical flavors cater to a variety of immigrants. His coconut, mamey, and guava flavors satisfy the local Cubans. Mexicans love the strawberry. Several Thai restaurants serve Alfredo’s wonderful ginger ice cream for dessert. Colombians love the guanabana, or soursop. Indians treasure the mango, cashew/raisin, and kesar pista, a curious blend of saffron and pistachio.

Although Snack City is known especially for ice cream, it serves full meals as well. My favorite is the Cubana frita, a hamburger with ketchup, onions, and loaded with potato sticks. A burger and fries in a bun.

Colombian food, with its penchant for beef, seems right at home on Boliche Boulevard. Down the street at the intersection of Howard, Antojitos is one of many relatively new Colombian restaurants in Tampa. Antojitos serves up huge platefuls of steak, fried fish, and a fried pork chop as big as your head.

You’ll notice the hot case at the counter, brimming with all kinds of exotic-looking treats. The chorizo is juicy and larger than its dried Spanish cousin. The dark blood sausage is mild and flecked with rice. Arepas are a Colombian snacking mainstay, an unleavened corn cake often topped with farmer’s cheese. The white farmer’s cheese is thick and mild and the arepa crisp. The corn-crusted empanadas score big points, especially loaded with aji, a thin green salsa with a spicy heat but no burn. The aji seems to compliment most of the food, especially the fried and grilled items.

Cold drinks, in turn, balance aji’s insistent heat. Colombians love fruit we don’t even have names for. Fruit nectar shakes come in 15 flavors such as pineapple, mango, papaya, and tamarind. I especially like to order flavors I’ve never heard of. A curuba milkshake is a favorite, as is blended lulo and ice.

On a cruise down Columbus, you might want some lighter fare than the chicharrones (fried pork skin) down the street. If so, get thee to Grass Roots Organic Restaurant, where the food is radically different from the nearby Latin eateries, and no less earnest. This haven for vegetarian, vegan, and raw diets relies on fresh vegetables and inventive seasoning.

This is no simple beans and rice kitchen. Instead, Grass Roots seems to have thought deeply about how to make such healthy food a little fun, too. The zucchini “spaghetti” is actually a highly stylized salad. The zucchini is shredded into long, thick noodle shapes. The “alfredo” sauce is an intriguing paste derived from cashews and spices, with a nice pinch of black pepper. The “meatballs” were crumbly veggie matter that tasted more nutty than meaty. The shredded house salad sports a smooth mango dressing. The falafel and veggie burgers are tasty, satisfying, and quite healthy. Veggie drinks include a variety of natural juices, fruits and vegetables, including seaweed.

For those who cannot go without meat and dairy, there is one more essential stop on Boliche Boulevard. At 60 years old this year, Brocato’s is the oldest restaurant along our chow trail, and it wins a loyal following with massive sandwiches, stuffed potatoes, and some of the best deviled crabs in the Tampa Bay area. Just north of Columbus east of 50^th Street, hard hats, blue collars, and hungry locals crowd the dining room and counters on weekdays. Truly a Tampa institution, Brocato’s has expanded several times to accommodate its growing clientele. There is an outdoor dining room and shaded picnic tables for al fresco dining, nice alternatives to the loud, cramped, and crowded dining room during lunch rushes.

The regular sized sandwiches are too much for most, and for a couple dollars more, the large is truly massive, even for this ravenous writer. The Italian sub above is a well stuffed, well pressed feast for three. The Cuban sandwich is impressive and generously laden with meat, but not overstuffed. The roast pork sandwich is a real winner, and the meatball is hard to resist. The chicken parmesan sandwich is also massive, with a two layers of fried chicken cutlets with the sauce and cheese.

There are a variety of other great sandwiches, and a few entrees, but the devil crabs stand out among the region’s best. So many other devil crabs are greasy dough balls with questionable seafood content. Moist and not the least bit doughy, accented with tiny pieces of onions and bell peppers, you will probably find a bit of crab shell in Brocato’s croquette, and take comfort in it. They are worthy successors to the old Seabreeze’s legendary devil crabs. Don’t forget the stuffed potatoes, they are too good to be ignored, stuffed with a real picadillo, not plain ground beef. The olives are especially appreciated.

By my estimation, Boliche Boulevard still lives up to its name quite well. It reveals a Tampa in constant flux, where various ethnic roots and lifestyles vibrantly mingle and coexist. One can taste that diversity and goodwill on a culinary crawl down Columbus Avenue.

I gave my signature sauce another try, using many of the same ingredients (peaches, chilies, rum, etc.), but took a much different approach. I wanted the flavors to be much bolder and more concentrated as I continue my continuing Quest for Sauce.

As a vehicle for my sauce, I chose country ribs. They can vary widely in quality, so I selected the best i could find. If none look good at the store, I get something different. When relying on likes of Publix for every day shopping, be flexible in the meat and produce departments.

I used a very similar rub as last time, 2 teaspoons each of brown sugar and hot paprika, 1 tsp each of coarse salt, black pepper, white pepper, onion powder, ground cinnamon, and 1/2 tsp ground cardamom.  The cardamom brings a fresh, aromatic quality to the rub.

Now for the sauce. I created my hot and sweet sides of the sauce separately. For the hot stuff, I roasted tomatoes, onions, jalapeno and serrano chilies after rolling in olive oil and seasoning with chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, and a touch of salt.  I added about a quarter of the seeds from the chilies.  Pureed, the vegetables turned into an excellent salsa.  To make a more concentrated sauce, this mixture would have to be cooked down.  On this occasion, I left it in its salsa consistency.

For the sweet side, I began with fresh peaches, peach preserves, diced onion, sugar, rum (Mount Gay this time— Barbados), a little cinnamon and salt.  I reduced it and pureed it, leaving a thick sauce.

Hot and sweet simmered side by side, leering at one another suspiciously. Would they get along?

To accompany our ribs, I sauteed carrots and cabbage and made some corn fritters, cooking them in a skillet with a little butter like pancakes rather than deep frying them.  They came out golden brown and tender.

Green onions and a little garlic powder sure taste nice in Jiffy cornbread mix.

The hot and sweet got along famously, but was more a salsa than a traditional sauce. It delivered a deep heat and peachy sweet to our aromatic ribs. I drizzled the fritters with a rum and honey butter, and the vegetables rounded out the plate perfectly. This attempt at the sauce yielded a wonderful salsa that I would make again. But I want something even more concentrated and spicy. I have a few ideas for my next Quest for Sauce.

Most of the meals you see here are not prepared with the idea that they are glorious. Sometimes you just need something to get you through the week. I wasn’t inclined to cook this time around, but I did anyway. I wanted lentil soup that I’d eat all week long.

I sauteed Italian sausage made with chicken and set it aside (left). To the right, I sautee celery, carrots, and onions in olive oil. I added tomatoes, lots of garlic, coriander, cumin, bay leaves, thyme, salt and pepper. Once the mixture cooked down, I added a little vermouth to the pot. The chopped potatoes in the picture’s center were added when the vermouth had cooked off, and the lentils shortly after. Then came the broth and cheap beer. I also pitched in the leftovers of my experimental peach salsa. It added a nice touch of sweet heat.

Bring on the lentils and drop the beats! I could bathe in this stuff if I didn’t want to eat it. I added the cooked chicken sausage at the very end of the process, cut off the heat, stirred, and served 10 minutes later.  In retrospect, I should have cooked the potatoes earlier with the celery and carrots, as it still seemed a bit stiff at cooking’s end.

This version of lentil soup could feed and army. Or a horse. Or an army of horses.  Or me: an army of one.  Good enough to eat again.  And again.

My neighbor and friend Starr had a dinner party last night, where the food and company were excellent.  Kathleen’s fruit salad was beautiful and delicious. The papaya was at the height of sweet juiciness.  Francis made a wonderful green salad with herbs, mozzarella, tomatoes, and a great balsamic vinaigrette.  Starr basted chicken breasts with barbecue sauce and gave them a turn on the grill.

With careless nonchalance, the bachelor Starr announced he would make the sweet potatoes and turned on the oven. They had already been prepped with onions and garlic.

Grilled chicken, wine, fruit, and champagne. My peach salsa lurks in the background. It comes on sweet but also brings a persistent spicy heat.

Kathleen’s cheese plate was wonderful. And Starr always demands postprandial chocolates. Some of us chose fine cigars from my father’s humidor, dipped their tips in rum, and retired to the yard to puff in the unseasonably cool weather. I also swirled a rum rickey (rum, lime, and seltzer). I felt so relaxed, I may as well have gone to a spa for the day. Congrats to Starr and company for a great evening.

The Acropolis Greek Tavern in Ybor City pleasantly surprised me this week.  Dinner was reasonably priced, timely, and tasty.

Cooked in a chunky tomato sauce and topped with feta and lemon juice, shrimp saganaki was fragrant and rather light.  The shrimp were a touch overcooked.  Since the dish arrives hot to your table, the critters continue to cook.  Note the steam in the photograph wafting in front of the falafel.  The saganaki was supposed to be flambeed, but I didn’t taste any alcohol.  That may have elevated the dish to something truly special.

Served with hummus and tahini, the falafel were among the better I’ve had in town, and a thin, crispy golden crust surrounded the chickpea interior.  Their shapes were very uniform.   Frozen?  Perhaps, but they were tasty compared to most of the specimens in town.

The Acropolis Salad was a monster pile of gyro meat, potato salad, bell peppers, cucumber, sweet peppers, tomato, lettuce, mixed greens, and a huge slab of feta.  I think the presentation is a disaster.  It was an awkward dish to eat and share, because everything is piled on.  It would be especially nice to be able to order half orders—- this $10 mountain makes two or three nice salads.  Oil and vinegar dressing would also be a nice option.  All that said, it was still a nice salad.

The Shish KaBob ($15) didn’t photograph well, but it was perfectly cooked to order.  There must have been 8 to 12 ounces of filet on the skewer with grilled onions, peppers, and tomatoes.  Nothing was overly seasoned or salted.  It seemed strange to blanket the orzo in feta cheese.  Serve it on the side if you must.  The orzo underneath was cooked al dente and lightly seasoned and buttered.  The vegetables were a bit soft, but were still appreciated.

There is, of course, theatrics to admire or tolerate, depending on your disposition and the time of night.  At about 7pm, all the shouts of “Opa!” seemed premature.  The musicians were a bit loud and sometimes seemed to be playing off-key to a canned drum track, and the waiters did a line dance through the dining room.  They also tossed fistfuls of napkins in the air, which is cute until it starts landing in your food.  It would be more fun while you’re drinking than while you’re dining.  This is Ybor City, after all.

Overall, Acropolis provided a pleasant dining experience for a reasonable price.  Most appetizers for $5, sandwiches for $6-$7, entrees average $10-$15.  Those dinner prices in Ybor City for such large portions are welcome, indeed.  Just keep the napkins out of my food.

I had the pleasure of attending Wazoo a couple weeks ago, a beer festival held annually as a fund raiser for Lowry Park Zoo. Hats off to the zoo for a great development idea. Tickets weren’t cheap: $65 or $70 the day of.  A friend obtained tickets, and I must say I’d consider buying tickets next time. There was a huge variety of beer, from Miller Lite to strange artisan brews.

There was also free food supplied by 20 restaurants. Shula’s proved to be the stand out, giving away steak sandwiches and jumbo shrimp. Five Guys Burger and Fries was the loser of the restaurants, as they couldn’t be bothered to give away fries. They only ran a basket at a time while the line to their booth lengthened. Their fries are not worth that kind of wait—- they’re never crispy enough. Besides, it was probably healthier to drink a beer instead.

Of course, the food was not the draw—- the beer was. And the beer did not disappoint. I mostly avoided the beer I was already familiar with. I also avoided all beers that are brewed with sweet fruit. Call me old fashioned, but beer should be liquid bread, and the fruit and vegetable groups have no place in my mug. That said, I find it acceptable to garnish certain beers with fruit. Blue Moon sure tastes nice with orange, and lime with Corona is refreshing. I approach beverages the same way as food: I’m not a snob, there is a place for cheap stuff, I appreciate the finer things, but high prices do not impress me.

It was easy to get drinks, as the beer was so spread out that long lines tended to be for food rather than beer. I probably sampled 50 or 60 brews, and I took pictures of my favorites. I would buy or recommend any of these beers: Red Sky at Night, Loose Cannon, Saranac (which i was already familiar with), Fire Rock, Long Board, and Ephemere.  There were many other worthy beers.

At one point in the evening, I stood at a urinal thinking that WaZoo is as much a pissing festival as a beer event.  I took many a Wazoo that night, but I also paced myself. The event organizers build two very important caveats into the evening. First, it only lasts three hours, right about the time that drunks become obnoxious. Second, they made a deal with a local taxi company to provide people with free rides. Through a little hustling, I got a cab at 10:30, the festival’s end and the height of demand.

I stitched together a couple old musings from 2001 or so about cooking in a smoker. I was really stuck on my smoker for a good 4 or 5 years. These days, I like to cook in the kitchen, too.

—————-

I love slow-cooking anything for anybody in my smoker. There is nothing more festive than smelling that smoke for hours before digging into a grand feast. I can turn my back on my smoker with no worries— unless i’ve done something rash or dumb, nothing will burn and the food will only improve.

I usually begin smoking anything by quickly searing it directly over the fire first (on a grill). This locks in the juices and speeds the cooking time for larger cuts. It also keeps the meat firm— slow cooking can sometimes result in TOO gentle preparation. After that, i put in the water dish and let it go. Unless i’m cooking something delicate like pork chops, fish, or skinless poultry, the smoker is on auto-pilot. I just check the state of the fire after that. Temperature is everything.

As for fave dishes, the smoked meatloaf is definitely one for great flavor and ease of preparation. Glazed pork chops are always a winner. Smoked turkey breast is among the best. Pork loin always impresses. A london broil stuffed with chiles and chorizo is exciting and easy.

In the end, grilling can make a chef seem better than they really are. Smoked onions in French onion soup makes one seem a genius. Smoked bratwurst can make one beg. Smoked hamburgers or even hot dogs will make you think you were a sucker to eat themn any other way. Smoked shrimp marinaded in lime and chiles… need i say more?

one more thing: it seems altogether more acceptable for a cook to have a few more drinks when grilling. always a bonus.

Just a couple years ago my roommates and i would have vast sleepover parties. I’d cook up some stuff in my smoker for dinner, and something big for brunch the next day. This time, we cooked 3 boneless pork shoulders for brunch, about $35 of beautiful meat rolled up with string.

I smoked them all afternoon and all night after rubbing them with spices. Late in the night, the entire drunken party migrated down to the smoker to watch me take the roasts off. They looked and smelled so good that we passed one of the roasts around and each of us took a big barbarian bite off of it.

The pork was moist, smoky, and immensely flavorful. At long last, we had found the holy grail of BBQ. We all wondered at how something could taste so good. Brunch was shaping up to be an earth-shattering culinary event.

Then, the buddy that bought the roasts in the first place decided that it would be a good idea to stew the roasts all night long with vinegar-based BBQ sauce in a crock pot. I immediately advised against it. I had smoked the meat for 8 hours, cooking it any more would be a moot and dangerous move. He insisted. I continued to protest, but finally let him have his way, as he had paid for it (though i was the one who smoked it lovingly all day). He coarsely chopped the meat and stewed it.

Late that night, when i was up from bed, i looked at the crock pot. It was boiling fiercely. I turned it off, hoping to save a bit of flavor. That morning, there was no holy grail on our plates. Instead, we found, dry, stringy, tasteless BBQ that seemed two weeks old. A priceless meal denied. My friend was so apologetic that he bought more roasts the next weekend, but they just didn’t taste the same. One golden moment had been lost forever!

Once again, it was Sunday and I wondered what I might cook for the coming week. I was intrigued by a trio of America’s Test Kitchen recipes, and decided to make them.

Before I concerned myself with cooking, I took pause at my long list of vegetables. I knew Publix would be only too willing to rob me in exchange for their mediocre selection of overpriced produce. Instead, I turned to the Sanwa market on Hillsborough Avenue, more than a city block of cheap produce, with a wide selection of “ethnic” fruits and vegetables. Sugar cane, chilies, and various Asian and Latin American specialties abound. I purchased 10 limes, 15 large jalapeno peppers, 6 onions, 1 green bell pepper, 2 red bell peppers, 16 medium tomatoes, and 3 bunches of cilantro. The price at Sanwa: ten dollars even. Take that, Publix!

After mixing a bit of oil with tomato paste, cumin, and chili powder, I tossed jalapenos, tomatoes and onions with the mixture.

After baking the vegetables for about 40 minutes, much of the water has been cooked out of them, and their flavors have been concentrated.  I blended the roasted vegetables with cilantro to form a smooth and substantial salsa. The beans did not require much work and had very little fat. I blended some canned pinto beans and left some whole.

I added satueed onions, jalapenos, cumin, and cilantro into the mix. It was so refreshing to have beans that hadn’t been over-spiked with salt. The canned stuff is hard to tolerate.  To season the onions and bell peppers for the fajitas, I used a mixture made by my friend Noel. Her “Hot Mama!” products taste great, so I sprinkled some on the veggies and added a little vegetable oil.

Using a bag makes tossing the ingredients neat and easy.  Bags are great for marinades. The chicken for the fajitas rested overnight in lime juice and spices.

The grilled chicken and vegetables lend great flavor to this healthy dish.  After letting the chicken rest, I cut it into large strips and added more cumin, chili powder, and lime juice. The beans, fiery salsa, roasted vegetables, lime juice, and cilantro could easily make a meal of themselves.

For a fast and seemingly lavish dinner, i spread a little brown and red rice on a tortilla, and layered on some chicken and roasted vegetables. To finish, I added some salsa, lettuce, and cilantro. Lots of healthy flavors in one package. I skipped the cheese and sour cream and never missed them.

The salsa was some of the best I’d ever made. Cut 3 jalapenos, 3 lbs tomato, and one onion in half and toss with 8 unpeeled cloves of garlic, 2 tbl tomato paste and 1 tsp each cumin and chili powder. (remove chili seeds if you prefer a milder, salsa, I usually leave 1/3rd and half in place) Place on baking sheet and bake at 375 degrees for about 40 minutes. Peel garlic cloves. Put all vegetables in food processor with 6 tbl fresh cilantro and puree until smooth. Add juice from 3 or 4 limes.

After the inspired performance of 15,000 Chinese performers that opened the Beijing Olympics, I craved Chinese food. When i got to China Yuan, owner Peter Chen was in a fine mood watching replays of the opening ceremonies. As always, his food shined.

The fried taro dumpling’s batter is delicate and crispy. Soft taro paste underneath is mild, with a savory center of ground pork. The sweet barbecue pork bun is a sticky honeyed delight inside and out. The shrimp dumplings pack a nice garlic punch. In between bites, tea helps cleanse the palate.

Part of the dim sum experience is finding your favorite ratio of soy sauce, vinegar, and hot chili. I like the hot oil and vinegar to dominate.

Chowhound Rebekah recommended I try the minced beef and cilantro soup. She did not steer me wrong. The soup is thick with egg whites and corn starch, finely chopped beef, and abundant with cilantro. The steamed chive dumpling was thick with chives, with a chewy exterior.

The final item to arrive was the Chao Sin(?) FunGor(?) (sic?), which was tough to handle. My brother removed one and some of its stuffing had fallen out. It was like trying to handle a small and very hot water bed or bean bag chair. But it tasted much better. The chopped, mild pork was seasoned with peanuts and scallions.

My two companions and I left completely satisfied, or so I thought. When I passed by Mr. Empanda on Armenia, my brother and I had to stop for their excellent guava and cream cheese empanadas. Our dim sum binge had come to an end. Then we went shopping for the ingredients of that night’s dinner!

I am a changed man.

I’ve been imbued with a sacred sense of mission, a crusading impulse to grasp at glory and exercise my ambitions. With a clear sense of my own shortcomings, I want to emulate the sentiment of French gastronome Brillat-Savarin, who wrote: “The discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of mankind than the discovery a star.” I couldn’t agree more, and I’ve had a vision.

I have begun a Quest for Sauce.

While a sauce may not qualify as a new “dish”, it is at least as important as discovering a new planet or a moon. So I will invent my own awesome grilling sauce, with an aroma that sings and a flavor that explodes. Something good enough to warrant the epitaph: “At least he made the sauce.”

These are the ground rules, people. One: it cannot resemble the typical American barbecue sauce. I love American style barbecue, all the regional favorites, but I don’t think I could add much to that genre. Two: the sauce must be very spicy— heady, even— and utilize fruit. Three: it should enhance the meat or vegetable’s flavor, not overwhelm it.

Let me tell you how I came to this awesome task, this spicy inspiration, this Quest for Sauce.

My friend Kristin recently confessed how bored with life she felt. Working in her family’s payroll business for the last twenty years and raising her wonderful children have been rewarding, but her talents and creativity demand new challenges. She wants to go into business herself.

As I’ve said before, Kristin is a great cook, so I suggested that she prepare and package food products, like a sauce, chutney, salsa, or tapenade. She said that it was already one of her more intriguing ideas. But what to make? I wondered what products were most in demand. What kind of product would I go out of the way to buy myself?

I certainly wish Kristin luck with whatever her enterprise might be. I’m especially thankful that her idea has reawakened ambitions of my own. With all humility and gratitude, I want to invent my own awesome grilling sauce. I don’t plan on making a business of it, but I want to create something distinctive, mix my impulses with discipline. I plan on perfecting the recipe’s taste until next summer, when i will package it for friends and family. I premiered the the first prototype at a housewarming party for some good friends.

I began with a rub adapted from a Steven Raichlen recipe, a much more interesting mixture than the typical barbecue:

2 tbl brown sugar, 2tbl hot paprika, and 1 tbl each of coarse salt, black pepper, garlic powder, cinnamon, and 1/2 tbl cardamom.

The rub was great, but the sauce was the experiment here. I want it to be spicy, sweet, fruity and tart without being too salty. My first run was not bad. I began with a recipe for peach, rum, and chili sauce. It turned out excellent, but my adaption was not hot, sweet, or punchy enough. At least it was an excuse to get a bottle of Myer’s rum, that dark elixir.

I was the first to season my buddy’s brand new grill. Another flaw of my sauce was its runniness, so I must admit that I seasoned it quite well. And the patio. And probably a few other things. I was in the heat of the moment. Cooking is like sex, you can’t be afraid to make a bit of a mess if you have to. If you’re worrying about a mess, you’re not giving the sex the attention it deserves. Or in this case, the cooking. So I got a little excited…

Clearly, a thicker, more clingy sauce would have cooked onto the chicken better. But no one complained, not even the new homeowner when he hosed my delicious sauce off his concrete patio.

The chicken was quite good, but I will return in the next installment of the Quest for Sauce.