So where did this all start out? Well the Huckleberry Hog
came into its nascence by way of a bit of good old action. I, being the Huck
character in this saga, like to cook and eat some “odd” stuff. I had never
really been one for the kitchen to any great degree until relatively recently.
I was not all thumbs in the kitchen but I never really had the urge to do much
therein. Then I grew a bit older and paid a bit more attention to what I was
eating. There are two relative watershed events as to how I started to cook and
be interested in “food matters.”
The First: there is a little café called MyDog Joe in the Westdale hood of the Hammer. I really enjoy this place as it has a wide variety of fancy coffees and tasty bits, my favorite of which has long been the soup. I used to go here for a coffee and some soup before heading further on in my day. After eating a few hearty bowls of variously eclectic soups I came to the realization that they were not really anything too beguiling, rather they were just creative. This is not meant as an offence the honour of the My Dog Joe "Souper," as all the soups were delicious. Thus being the adventure minded fellow that I am I determined that if I set about it I could probably make the same soups on my own. Plus I would save the mark up and could experiment to tailor the soups to my own interests. Thus my love of souping and the doctrine of the Soup Bible began.
The Second: one day a friend got a pet rabbit. While perusing photos of said rabbit I noticed that someone had made a joking statement about “hasenpfeffer” for dinner. I had no clue what this was. I looked it up. Then I found that it was a Germanic rabbit preparation. So again I thought, aw shucks that sounds good. I have never cooked a rabbit on my own so I will try to make this dish, why not. These two events are the seminal transition to my love of cooking. I now brim with joy at exploring the latitudes of cookery and recipes, studying the culinary expeditions of the Shackleton of the saucepan, the Monfreid of mutton, the Fawcett of fowl.
In my ongoing adventure I have tended towards more “exotic” or less common dishes. I think my reason for this, as you will surely see in subsequent posts, is just that. These dishes are often pariahs and I didn’t really know why. So I set about making said dishes to gauge them for myself. In this incarnation you could say that Jennifer Mclagan, curiosity and the ethos of Fergus Henderson guided me to try out-in-left-field dishes.
As for the Tom character in this blog-tale, well he likes to hunt and fish. He ain’t half bad at either-in fact he is pret’darn good. So now the journey continues and I hope that, for the countless hours of dawdling and wasting away time that was meant to be dedicate to our betterment and work on our respective doctoral degrees, you will join us for this hodgepodge of Epicurean indulgence. Much as Huck rafted the Mississippi this journey will be unconventional. Maybe we will post twice one week and then maybe not for a month. We make no promises. In terms of recipes it is unlikely that they will be precise. I do not think I am alone, nay I know I am not alone, in saying that cooking is for the soul and thus precise measurements help but so does a dash of this and a smidge of that. Perhaps I am too lazy to fully follow a prescribed recipe, I like to think I am an experimentalist. I leave it to your discretion to gauge which fits best. So no guarantees on exact details of recipes, think more suggestions-of-an-idea-of-meal-that-sounded-good-in-a-daydream.
Further down the Misi-ziibi we go...
Huck
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