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 This is my blogchalk: United States, North Carolina, Carrboro, English, Paul, Male, 56-60, All Music, All Food.
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Sunday, May 30, 2004 |

Can’t grill here. No sir-ee. No way. Not allowed. Baby backs rode sidekick to the tomatoes, tented with foil. Took ‘em out and mixed the extracted rib juice with BBQ sauce and poured that over, untented. As it cooked off and down, basted. Maybe three times. After a while, they emailed me and said everything’s alright.
5:12:23 PM
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Slow-roasted Tomatoes
225º for 6 hours. No scooping, no cheese. Some garlic powder, dried parsley. Olive oil used has become beloved of baguette.
4:57:03 PM
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I scored some skirt steak for Memorial Day weekend. You hardly ever see this in supermarket meat bins. It is sometimes called a “butcher’s cut,” because the butcher likes to take it home. When it is left on a prime rib roast (it’s the part that looks like an apostrophe), it generally gets overcooked and fat-laden to accommodate the Nevada-shaped main cut. Alone, it makes incredibly delectable fajitas. Roulade, and stir-fry. I was so lucky to find this cut – and the price wasn’t bad, under 3 dollars a pound. Keep an eye out for it, though you’ll rarely see it, it is a treat beyond words.
1:31:44 AM
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Al-Qaeda, by attacking arterial oil, has apparently declared war on the SUV people. Who are you rooting for?
1:00:51 AM
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