The plan was for two kinds of tacos: steak and greens. We got some lacinato kale in our CSA box, and I browned a red onion, added the shredded kale, chicken stock, and red pepper flakes, and stewed it until tender. Meanwhile, I browned and sliced some lime-marinated flank steak. Slicing flank steak, either before or after it’s cooked, is one of my favorite kitchen tasks.

It was at this point that I realized the tortillas weren’t going to work out. Trader Joe’s sells a dozen varieties of tortillas, some great, some terrible. These were the latter, some kind of thick corn tortilla as pliable as corrugated cardboard. I found one flour tortilla in the fridge and magnanimously offered it to Iris. Laurie and I each got a big bowl of greens topped with steak and a squeeze of lime.

Need I say that this was as good as any taco? It was also real home cooking, in that I can’t imagine how anyone would get away with serving it in a restaurant: not enough meat to call it a steak dish, too steaky for a vegetable side dish. I’m going to make it again.

Iris got the Green Eggs and Ham Cookbook for her birthday and zoomed right in on a recipe called Jed’s Bed of Shrimp. This consists of half a pineapple topped with an imaginary creature and an enormous pile of fried coconut-breaded shrimp.

I asked if we could dispense with the Jed and the pineapple. Iris agreed. I got a bag of unsweetened shredded coconut and a bag of shrimp and went to work. It was okay. If you, like me, are not a fan of the sweet coconut shrimp as served at Red Lobster and elsewhere, substituting unsweetened coconut will not convince you. Iris wasn’t terribly impressed either.

“Why don’t we try it again with panko?” I asked, sounding just like a guy with half of pound of shrimp in the freezer. (This should be a metaphor for something.)

“Okay!” said Iris.

So I did it again, still omitting the pineapple, and this time doing a standard three-part breading of flour, egg, and panko. Iris ate fifteen shrimp. They were 51-60s, but still, whatever you do, don’t tell her about all-you-can-eat fried shrimp at Sizzler.

Today in Gourmet:

[Chewy Pork Belly](http://www.gourmet.com/food/2009/01/chewy-pork-belly)

> “Just so you know,” he said, “The pork belly is supposed to be chewy. I wanted to add a note of authenticity here. In Asia, people eat with the front teeth. Americans eat with the back teeth.” While I chewed and enjoyed the next piece of pork, I thought about my front teeth. They do seem to go woefully underused.

I’m really happy with the way this little piece came out. I got schooled.

Okay, bad title, plus this post is entirely self-aggrandizing. This has never stopped me before. It also has an uplifting message and is about an event that you can’t go to because it’s over and you probably weren’t invited.

Still with me? Of course you are! The other day Laurie and I went to a meat party thrown by Matt and Danika Wright of the blog Wrightfood. All of the food was delicious, especially the 18-pound slow-roasted pork shoulder, which was carved by yours truly. Read Matt’s blog–there’s a photo to prove it.

What’s that? You didn’t know I could carve a roast, like a real man? You’re right: I can’t. Until the other night I had never carved anything more challenging than a boneless pork loin in my life. But Matt put the roast on the table and said, “You’ve all had enough wine, I’m just going to let someone dig in here.” I found myself on my feet. (I had had enough wine.)

It went fine. The pork was so tender that I was basically pulling off chunks with a knife and dripping bits on the tablecloth. As I carved, I remembered a story that I used to tell my biology TAs. Not a good story, but relevant nonetheless.

For a couple of quarters I was a teaching associate at the University of Washington. This meant I supervised the TAs, demonstrated the labs for them, gave them pep talks, leaned against the walls of their classrooms twirling my mustachios in a threatening manner, and so on.

Before reporting to my first day of work at the teaching job, I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. “Are you a pharmacist?”

“Huh?” I replied.

“Your shirt.” I was wearing a [Ted Leo and the Pharmacists](http://tedleo.com/) shirt with a vaguely pharmacological symbol on it.

Later I met my TAs, many of whom were concerned that, as undergrads teaching undergrads, they wouldn’t be taken seriously by their students. I told the pharmacist story and said that if wearing a shirt can make an actual pharmacist believe I’m a pharmacist, they are going to have no problem.

To sum up, next time I hear, “Does anybody here know how to fly a plane?” that’s gonna be me, flying your plane!

Today on Gourmet:

Eight great teahouses in the Pacific Northwest

> Ever been lured off-menu at a tea shop? I have. “Are you into Japanese teas?” asked the guy at Tea Zone when I ordered a pot of sencha. Reaching below the counter, he produced a deep-steamed green tea from Kagoshima, Japan, that cost me an extra buck and produced an incomparably green cup.