Drunk Cow: Dairy Delight or Dairy Error?

by Big Daddy Mixer on August 11, 2008

drunk cow is wine and ice creamHosting a party usually means a couple things: there’s someone who drinks too much, and there’s someone who doesn’t drink enough. Naturally, we want balance in our lives and in our food. And in our parties.

So, when The Mix Kitchen hosted a Saturday-night food-and-funk gala, we were surprised to see that our wine just wasn’t moving. It went untouched like a liquid leper. Not that it had anything to do with the brand (we only spring for the best during Mix Kitchen parties), a 3-liter jug of cabernet from Livingston Cellars. Instead, it was the heat: Everyone wanted something that ditched the steam of the evening.

We understood the situation and knew we must come up with remedy. That’s our job. So we began pouring wine glasses half full of the cabernet and, in a twist that had as much to do with perverse experimentation as it did our desire to appease our back-porch guests, we reached for ice cream. Yep, we tossed two scoops of fudge swirl into the wine glasses and handed out the concoction with baby spoons and come-on-and-give-it-a-try grins. We had a hunch all would be well.

Eat Fast, Drink Faster

Ice cream does some interesting things when it mixes with wine. First, it doesn’t melt as much as it kind of peels off like lava. The wine absorbs the ice cream, and a half-inch layer of sweet froth rises inside the glass. So do you eat it or drink it? Yes…or, errr, both—and quickly, otherwise the ice cream loses its reason for being, and the wine gets syrupy and muddled like Robitussin with a crumbled Pez-candy chaser.

You Want Me to Do What?

Most people don’t take kindly to messing with tradition—especially when it comes to drinking. A lime kissing the inside of a Corona bottle? Sure. A fat olive swimming in a martini? Uh-huh. But fudge-swirl ice cream in a glass of god’s nectar? Our friends weren’t buying it. “You want me to do what?” was the typical reaction.

But after some coaxing, the spoons dipped into the froth, and a few smiles ensued. Ladies dug the concoction, and guys generally considered sipping and eating this drink/food the gastronomical equivalent of carrying a man purse.

“It’s incredibly sweet, like kissing a girl with too much lip gloss,” said one amigo with a gag-reflex face.

The tally: Six glasses, three thumbs up…and, yeah, three dudes wanted to puke.

Ice Cream + Wine = Drunk Cow

Percentage poured in Marley’s bowl: 48% (to be more accurate, we really ended up just pouring it in the yard – Marley’s under 21, even in dog years)

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peanut butter and popcorn makes peanut pornFull disclosure: Some of us in the Mix Kitchen don’t trust microwave popcorn. Sure, the kernels explode into salty puffs of snack nirvana within a couple minutes, but the palate payoff is tantamount to nibbling on a pale, frozen bagel or a couple generic Ho-Hos. Something—well, everything—gets lost in translation. Which means that, while we’re progressive in many ways (e.g., occasionally sipping beer from a glass), we are traditionalists when it comes to popcorn. Our kernels of choice hail from the dweeb who has become an unlikely brand: Orville Redenbacher. The company’s so-called gourmet selection comes in a 30-ounce plastic jar brimming with nuggets grown in the heartland, where the boys and girls are husky and the popping corn is even huskier.

Forget Parmesan Topping. Screw Salt. Give Us the Heavy Stuff.

Popcorn is like Grant Wood’s portrait “American Gothic.” It’s staid, boring and pretty much does what’s expected of it. We devour it by the tubful in movie theaters without once thinking “Is this all there is to this food product?”

Well, we thought about it—and we asked the question, then decided to act. Popcorn needs a heavy. It needs a brother. Yes, a heavy brother: peanut butter.

Hell Yes, We Fried It Up in a Pan

The Redenbacher label bears a thin band of print that reads: “Alternative Popping Instructions.” That’s the Mix Kitchen. We didn’t bother with a hot-air popper (we don’t even own one), so we took our 2-gallon pan, lined its bottom with generous amount of Reese popcorn oil, put the burner’s heat on medium, plopped a lid on the pan, and waited for the magic. And, indeed, it’s like an olfactory amusement park. The scent of searing popcorn oil coupled with sizzling kernels about to detonate is a glorious slice of homespun heaven. (And yes, if you want, you can just nuke some microwavable popcorn for this step, but be sure to turn on some music at least for special effect.)

How Do You Actually Apply Peanut Butter to Popcorn?

Very delicately. While you don’t need the eye and steady hand of a diamond cutter, you should be:

1. Sober (OK, somewhat sober)
2. Patient
3. Only mildly hungry (if you’re famished, the application of peanut butter takes too long, and you could impulsively gnaw off one of your important fingers…just saying)

We used Skippy peanut butter and a spoon to apply the heavy stuff on the puffy corn. Why a spoon? It allows you to dip the popcorn and place it back into a bowl, creating a glop-inspired mound. It’s absolutely gorgeous, sort of a cross between Seuss-like mountains and the Rockies (if you squint).

Peanut Porn is way more G-rated than it sounds.

Peanut Porn is way more G-rated than it sounds.

The palate payoff takes a while (roughly 5 minutes of application time for a 12-ounce bowl of popcorn), but the taste is better than the popcorn-buttery kiss of a girl in a dark movie theater.

Popcorn + Peanut Butter = Peanut Porn

Percentage fed to Marley: 1% (the way he was drooling staring at it, we had to give him something)

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Grape Nuts mixed with scrambled eggs, mmm.Eggs, especially if they are scrambled, are wonderfully humble. They’re also one of the easiest foods to mix with another. Their versatility—sort of like the musician who sings and plays drums, keyboard, guitar and harmonica—enables them to jump into a culinary marriage with a range of food products, from the ho-hum (bacon) to the truly adventurous (Grape Nuts).

Sure, scrambled eggs can be consumed solo, but they aren’t all that great on their own.

We rarely see someone sit down with a nice steaming bowl of scrambled eggs without food accompaniment. Here’s why: Our species boasts some pretty nice incisors, and we like to use them, so eggs need a crunchy companion to make up for their softness. (A recent food experiment in the Mix Kitchen paired black beans with pizza topped with pesto, broccoli, tomato, and cheese—the logic being that the beans would add a nice protein punch. While we got the protein, the mix was a disaster: It lacked a crunchy/soft ratio. Instead, we got soft/soft ratio, which is no good unless you’re a former hockey player and possess few, if any, teeth.)

Powered By Grape Nuts

Grape Nuts are in the same culinary boat as eggs: They’re not that great on their own unless you’re in the squirrel or burrowing-rodent family. They’ve proven themselves as steadfast companions with other cereals, and they top many a confection like ice cream and yogurt (note: soft/crunchy ratio), so we figured it was time to for the Mix Kitchen to see if the Nuts could hang with eggs.

Grape Nuts mixed with scrambled eggs, mmm.
Grape Nuts mixed with scrambled eggs, mmm.

We’re happy to report that they can. In fact, Grape Nuts—at least in this food combination—take scrambled eggs from a morning side dish to a satiating meal perfect for downing as a post-workout protein boost or to quell an attack of the midnight (or anytime) munchies.

Give It to Me Scrambled

Some might wonder about the quantity of Nuts to pair with the eggs. It’s a legitimate question and one we didn’t take lightly in the Mix Kitchen. We first drizzled sparingly, then tasted the combo. Too much egg (soft/mild-crunch ratio). We then drizzled with abundance, covering the eggs generously, like salt on a French fry. It worked. The soft/crunch ratio was met with every forkful, and Marley the Mix Kitchen pooch could only stare in drooling agony as we ate the entire light, fluffy—and yes, satisfyingly crunchy—mix.

Scrambled Eggs + Grape Nuts = Scrambled Nuts

Percentage fed to Marley: 0% (down, boy!)

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The Luther Burger There’s pretty much only two things you can say or think of when your eyes are feasting on The Luther Burger – the one-pound-ground beef, cheese, grilled onions, and five strips of bacon filled treat that Real Life comics is calling “The Greatest Epicurean Achievement in the History of Man” – and they are:

1. Are those really Krispy Kreme Doughnuts?

And,

2. Where can I get one?

…..

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