Jordan's Breakfast (at) Jordan's

This is it my friends, porchetta.  what else could you want?  I even used a capital* letter at the beginning of this letter** because it’s so immense and un-frustrating.  porchetta [por-kay-ta] is immense, yes.  frustrating, no.  so why did I say that?  I’m not sure.  but I hope it taught you a lesson. 

this post here is an homage, a kickback if you will to my earlier style of brkfst eating habits and posting style.  a homeward bound dictation to my original vogue…and I digress…

this brkfst here was eaten back at the ol’ shoppe of yore, stirring up strange feelings causing a sodium chloride-filled leak to excrete from mine eye, and an achy breaky feelin’  in my belly, as opposed to the hit song “achy breaky heart” by ray-cy.  me and the ray-cy are on a first name basis of nicknames…so don’t worry about it.  I ate this magical brkfst with a special person (at) 11:45 am; now I know you ladies out there say that 11:45 am is too late for brkfst, but being the “brkfst bad boy” that I am, I Jordan, enjoy pushing the limits of societal rules of so called brkfst “time.”  

I have now allocated some of my time in my exceedingly un-busy schedule to educate you, the people’s on prchtta; the brkfsty way of saying porchetta.  now let’s start off with the physical and anterior side of the porchetta.  …wait a minute, when did this turn into grade 11 biology with the stinky teacher that no one wanted to get close to?  this is ridiculous, it’s brkfst, not school!  my friends, please, bare with me if you can, and never dance with a bear.  the porchetta starts off as a pork “middle” which is the pork-chop loin deboned with the “pancetta” or pork belly still attached.  this is completely deboned of the rib bones.  which are connected to the chine bone.  the chine bones’ connected to the feather bone.  the feather bones’ connected to the…nevermind.  it’s not that funny anyways is it?  the square delicious mass of pork loin and belly are then rubbed with spices and herbs and fennel and everything nice.  much the same way one would rub the belly of a pig…with spices…or something to that effect.  the porchetta is then rolled up with the loin in the middle and tied with string, much the same way a football is tied up and rolled.  needless to say, the porchetta tastes much better than a roasted football.  the porchetta is then tossed*** into the oven for about three hours on a lower temperature oven.  the skin on the outside, when roasted, turns into the most delicious crunchy thing one will eat.  ever.  

now I shall segue back to the eating of the brkfst.  I had a porchetta sandwich on a one-quarter section of a warm baguette. the porchetta piled high atop the warm bread, much the way a gorilla sits atop a the tree top and watches over his territory.  drippings from the roasting pan were added to the sandwich.  a smattering of stonewall’s roasted garlic mustard was slathered onto the other half of bread.  then it was closed shut with such force, that small many small animals went into early hibernation.  this delicate delicacy was consumed with such ferocious ferociousness, it made me gasp.  here I shall stop, and let you think and ponder about what you should do next and how you should do it.  aka, find the nearest place with a porhetta sandwich, and eat it.  I spelled porchetta without the ‘c’ as a typo…it’s not the spanish way of saying porchetta.

good day all.  sweet porchetta dreams.

*capital with an ‘a’ because with an ‘o’ would just be silly because it’s not a building in the USA.

**letter.  i say letter here because it’s more befitting than a regular boring old “blog post” or “entry” or some other sexual innuendo I choose not to write.  even though most of my posts have sexual innuendos in one way or another…but hey, as they say, sex sells.  …which is why I don’t post many/any pics of me, Jordan from Jordan’s brkfsts (at) Jordan’s, because I’d sell out.  wink.

***tossing a porchetta into the oven is where the term “tossing the ol’ pig skin around” originated from.  young men in Italy would toss the porchettas back and forth around the shop to transfer them from one area to another, and would yell out things such as “ohhhh marcello!!!  prendi la pelle di maiale!” to which marcello would reply “scemo!  non voglio giocare football! stupido” and on and on these Italian men would yell senseless things at each other about pig skin long into the night.  

fløde fyld fløde pudderkvast is what i would eat in a little cafe in the beautiful copenhagen mornings with a “lille kaffe.”  i have always been a fan of indulging in simple brkfsts consisting of delicious sweet things.   i had made friends with asbjørn, the proprietor of “store forventninger.”  asbjørn (i like typing the ‘o’ in his name) and his small cafe are a minor celebrity among our danish foodie kin.  everything is produced by hand.  he has his hands in everything.  all day.  every day.  i don’t mean to freak out the mysophobes*, i just mean that everything is unique, artisanal  and delicious.  and i must say, everything so, was so much so, so.  anyways,  i don’t mean to sound pretentious, but denmark is a great place to go on a weekend getaway for a spectacular brkfst.  the fløde fyld fløde pudderkvast are a strange and lumpy looking pastry, much like my old art history teacher, without the sweet pastry part.  the cream on the inside of these is a light and fluffy, yet delicately decadent cloud (a thesaurus is a great way to liven up your writing) that just melts in your mouth.  it makes you feel as though the 8500 kilometer flying time, and  two hour driving time from the airport, is worth it for just two days of copenhagen.  the best part about this quaint and amazing shop, besides the distance to the red light district**, is it’s freshness.  walk in at 11:30 am or at 2:00 am (after a quiet, hapless night of casual strolling down the red light district) and you’ll find pudderkvasts are, for the most part, warm and delicious.  the shop has around seven different brkfsty and/or other time of eating, items, but another i would recommend is the ‘coffee cake.’  try it, and let me know what you think.  accompanying my brkfst was usually a small danish coffee  or ‘lille kaffe’; black with a shot of rum, and a couple cinnamon sticks.  a drink that will wake you up and make you drunk.  if you have about ten.  this brkfst had to have been the most different i have ever had (although it is quite similar to espresso with a shot of grappa and a brioche in italy…so i guess that last statement was a bit redundant.)  it’s the kind of brkfst that can make you happy when you’re sad, wake you up when you’re sleepy, and comfort you when you’re inconsolable.  copenhagen itself is a beautiful city with a rich history and culture.  and a great number of places to nosh.  god dag!  (i realize it looks and sounds like something else when you have a cold, but it means “good day”).

*mysophobe it’s just a germaphobe.  sometimes misspelled as germophobe.  but no one’s counting…i mean watching.  anyways, that’s what white-out was for before we had computers or even when we had computers.  it was such annoying stuff hey?  i always had trouble with it, the stupid stuff would take too long to dry and i wouldn’t be patient enough because my seven page essay on the reparations payments of germany was due tomorrow and it’s already 11:37pm, and i’m tired and i missed simpsons and family guy.  then i’d go and stick my pen into the splotch of white-out goop and it would just stick to the pen and drag a streak of white and blue across the line.  then you’d have to white-out the entire line.  then some genius invented the white-out tape.  this stuff wouldn’t even stick to the page half the time or would get dragged off by my hand because i’m left handed and i guess they figured that left-handed people either didn’t make mistakes or didn’t use white-out tape.  then i’d have to white out the entire line because i wrote “gremany shouldn’t not be held responsible…” and i’d make a long crooked line that only covered the bottom half of the letters.  i couldn’t get the hang of it.  so i’d go back to my white-out liquid pen and splotch on some of that.  my essays usually weighed about eight pounds after the writing and white-out.  but let’s get back to brkfst.

**apparently red light district is not a danish-english translation for “lots of stopping.”  i guess it is, in one way…but that statement can be taken a lot of ways.  so lets just keep on track with pudderkvasts…

-this is just a stock photo found on the internet of the pudderkvasts.  my camera was confiscated for lewdness.  can you believe that?  lewdness?  if you’ve ever experienced this, you can contact me at brkfstluvr449@hotmail.com  it’s an actual email. there’s a lewdness non-resistance group that meets every third thursday of every tenth leap year.  or something.  i don’t remember.

angus ‘young’ ribeye balls

angus young from the critically acclaimed band ac/dc once told me “you can’t grind up those well-marbled angus steaks and turn them into hamburgers, jordan” and boy did i show him; i punched him in the eye and said “listen ang’ your songs may be great, but don’t tell me what i can and cannot grind up for a brkfst” and which point he looked at me and said “i have no clue who you are, security, please escort this disturbed gentleman out the door…i have no idea how he got in here.”

the story above took place when i was on a bad drug trip when i was getting over another drug that i was taking to help cope with the withdrawal symptoms.

 i took three (that’s 3) pounds (lbs) of angus ribeye steak and ground it once in a hobart grinder.  hobart makes the finest tabletop grinders that can endure years of grinding the toughest thing on earth.  diamonds you say?  ha ha, no, a highly laughable suggestion…no my tasty friends, i mean pork skin.  as my other brother (aka good friend) put it “nothing’s tougher than pork skin.”  i mixed the ground angus (the steak not the guitarist from ac/dc) with chopped carrots, celery, and some onion and garlic and glazed the outside with a very rich and very haute and trendy mix of mayonnaise and a substance only available in the classiest areas of france and what the french call “la moutarde.”  after the nice run-on sentence that just occurred, i shall tell you that the angus meatballs were baked.  prior to putting the pan of angus balls, haha balls, in the oven, i took some very magical extract of olive mash that i purchased from a purveyor of fine goods at a purchasorium* on the north-east end of town.  i pulled out the angus balls after a fine cooking and ate them with voracious voracity.  the smell was tangy and rich and reminded me of a steak i once cooked for brkfst with similar ingredients, http://brkfst.tumblr.com/post/92770162/post-pan-seared-pre-oven-roasted-steak-this-my   that my friends, is how you cook a steak.  yup.  with heat. the carrots and other vegetables i mentioned above and are too lazy to remember what i put in to scroll up and look, tasted amazing.  they stayed in tact and had no signs of burning or spoilage.  the meat balls will be amazing as a cold, hand-sliced meatball segment for a sandwich.  another brkfst perhaps?  stay tuned.  

james bond.  brkfst.  james bond.  brkfst.

q.

*purchasorium; n; a store-like emporium for the exchangemént of monetary valued, paper-like pictures of famous people for fine goods.  …needless to say, the guy who opened it is already out of business in one day because he accepted pictures of sylvester stallone and william h. macey as money.  no one realized you could buy “la moutarde” at safeway.

the above picture is a stock photo of meatballs from the world wide internet.  in other words, those aren’t my balls.  apparently polaroids is not a form of steroids, and it’s also a camera that went out of style in the 80’s.  so i was unable to purchase film for a picture for my camera.

the lovely lady herself.