In the Kitchen with Fidel

Last weekend, my husband, our youngest son Kingston and i had the pleasure of spending a little slice of time in Philly with some of our besties, Kelly and Marcos, and their daughter Camila. Some of you may be more familiar with Marcos's alter ego, Fidel Gastro. The man has an enviably amazing blog and the kitchen skillz to match, as were showcased in the form of pork and cheese last Sunday.

The evening began with our arrival and some Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPAs we brought along. These amazing beers really got things going for my husband and Fidel, both of whom donned full Eagles regalia for the ensuing game against the Redskins (who might, i suppose, be "my" team, if i gave even half a shit about football. All i know is that the Eagles now have that sicko dog-eater on their team, which is hardly forgivable...but i digress...). Thus began a showcasing of a little something new for Fidel, dare i say for all of us: sporting equipment in the form of webbed shoes. These new-fangled Vibram Five Fingers (Um, toes? Thanks.) are evidently all the rage--and they are pretty cool, but i did notice some dipshit in a coffee shop the other day (not running) wearing them, and i really wanted to punch him in the nuts, if in fact he even had nuts. But Fidel runs the way any self-respecting foodie runs, and the way i would if i ever ran, EVER: with a beer in hand.

After filming this clip, i tried on the Vibrams, and although they were comfortable for the most part, the fabric and rubber between my toes gave me a sensation i can only describe as "violating". Like a greasy Chinaman to the foot prostitute, mayhaps...(too much?)

On to the food. I observed Fidel as he stirred, nay, caressed his bechamel to a creamy perfection before adding four kinds of cheese and some Barilla Plus elbows to the mix. He then topped it with Panko (Japanese breadcrumbs) and pats of Rich Creamery Butter:
Chef Gastro

It was then baked to a golden perfection:
 Meanwhile, in the CrockPot was more delicious alchemy, this one involving pork [insert cheering noises]. I am sorry to say that i have no idea what he did to those sweet pig cheeks, but the sandwich that they became was one of the best i have ever had, f'real! The slaw was something super special, evidently obtained at some magical Philadelphia farmer's market run by Slaw Gods, and the buns (the bread ones, not the pig ones) came from the bakery up the street from their house. They live in an awesome niche of Philly where everything quaint a whitey could want is in cobblestoney walking distance--enviable for sure, especially to we Salt Lakers--Salt Lake is somewhere between 99% and 100% void of quaintness. Here is the end result (note the side of pork with the pork):

NOM NOM NOM Oh God, need more...

It was an absolute delight--party in our mouths, errybody invited, etc. Kingston and Camila were pretty stoked on it as well. Perhaps they will serve this meal at their arranged marriage. (Kelly has done Marcos the kindness of birthing one of the most exquisite baby girls on Earth, and i don't just throw that kind of compliment around lightly--i do, after all, have some of the cutest fucking kids on the planet myself...)
Dave with the betrothed

Later, the night got a bit nuttier for the guys, and involved the questionable synthesis of "Amp" energy drinks with vodka, and several Newport cigarettes (both men are what i would define as "negrophiles", having spent at least their entire high school careers in a desperate attempt to be black via graffiti art and hip-hop music in the middle of Utah...i assume the Newports are just a lingering flicker of hope in this department...as is, perhaps, Dave's marriage to me--a thinly veiled attempt at producing offspring that are quasi-negro that has thus far been thwarted by his blindingly white gene pool...). Dave ended up passed out using a baby chair for a pillow despite the Amp usage, but this is generally as wild as it gets for us parents. A lovely night, spent with lovely and extremely hospitable friends whom we love dearly. Thanks, you guys! Buen provecho.


  1. 1. i want to live there, too. badly. see if marcos and kelly are in the market for a nanny, stat.

    2. my trainer wears the five-fingers, and i have to admit, i'm a bit jealous when it comes time for yoga and i'm strugglin' in my bare feet on the clammy mat. (TMI?)

    3. newports?? holy disgusting. yet hilarious since i only had to hear about them rather than actually inhale that ish second hand.